Mindshadow
by Eileen
Summary: A new mutant comes to the Institute and finds she has a lot to learn. CURRENT STATUS: Chapter 1 is almost finished! Which means, sadly, that this will be taken down soon. I'll let you know when.
1. Prologue

MINDSHADOW

**MINDSHADOW**

(Disclaimer: All characters except Brenda are property of Marvel Comics/Kids WB.)

Prologue 

St. Brendan's Church in Ruttletop, Hampshire, England, was not the sort of place where strange or unusual things happened. But on this bright Sunday morning, they were about to.

From the choir loft, twelve-year-old Brenda Ellis watched as Father MacIsaac recited the closing prayer. She liked closing prayer, because it meant that she was going to sing soon. And her favorite hymn too, "Joyful Joyful We Adore Thee."

But as Father MacIsaac droned on, she became aware of other voices besides his. First one, then another, then another, hissing and whispering to her in words she couldn't quite hear.

What was going on? Was someone talking in church? She looked around, but she didn't see any mouths moving.

It was as if . . . the voices were speaking directly into her head.

But that was evil. That was the work of the Devil . . . wasn't it?

_"It was the Devil . . . the Devil himself!"_

No, it couldn't be. It just couldn't.

The voices grew louder, pressing in on her from all sides . . . She covered her ears, trying to block them out, but still they came, even louder than before—

"**STOP IT**!" She wasn't even aware she had spoken, much less stood up and shouted at the top of her lungs. The entire church turned and looked at her. Even Father MacIsaac stopped in midsentence and glanced up to see what was wrong.

_I don't belong here,_ Brenda thought, ashamed. _I'm the child of the Devil! I can't be here!_

Before anyone, least of all the stunned choirmistress, could stop her, she turned and fled from the church. She didn't stop until she got to her room in the adjacent convent, where she collapsed on her bed, sobbing in terror.

She must have fallen asleep. When she woke up, Sister Maria was by her side.

Sister Maria had been her confidante since she was small. In many ways, she was like a mother to the orphaned girl.

"My poor child, what happened?"

Brenda found it hard to answer. "I . . . I heard voices, Sister. In my head."

"The Holy Spirit called you?"

"No, there were many voices, like a lot of people talking at once. But they were talking inside my head." The girl propped herself up on her elbow. "Sister Iphigenia is right, I am a child of the Devil!"

"No, you are not," Sister Maria reassured her firmly. "I was there, and I can honestly say that your birth was nothing short of blessed."

"Except that my mother died."

"She entered the arms of the Father, so that you would live," Sister Maria said. She sat on the bed and put her arm around the girl. "My child, God has a plan for you, and these voices you're hearing are part of his plan. Don't shut them out. Learn to listen to them, and they will guide you."

"How do you know that?"

"I trust in God, who loves us. And you should too." She took something from her pocket and slipped it over the girl's head. "This was your mother's. She wanted you to have it when you were old enough."

Brenda looked down at it. It was a locket on a chain. On the front was engraved "MARGARET ROSE ELLIS",and when she opened it, there was a tiny picture inside, of a girl who looked very much like her, holding hands with a boy about the same age. "Is . . . is that her?"

"Yes, it is. She wore this until the day she died."

"Who's that?" She touched the boy's picture. He was rather good-looking, with a bright smile that matched the girl's. Brenda had never seen her mother's smile.

"I have no idea. She never spoke of her life before she came here. It was like . . . she wanted to put it behind her." Sister Maria stood up. "I told everyone that you were ill. You can have the rest of the day to yourself. I'll bring your meals."

"I'm sorry," Brenda said. "I didn't mean to—"

"I know you didn't, love. Now why don't you ask God to help you listen to what your voices are saying?"

"I'll do that." __

"Good." Sister Maria went out and shut the door behind her.

Brenda sat up, still holding the locket in one hand. Hard to believe her mother had once been a pretty young girl, arm in arm with her boyfriend (was he her boyfriend? For all Brenda knew this could have been her brother, but something about their smiles told her they were very much in love). 

Are you watching over me, Mother? Will you help me? Do I need to listen to the voices, or make them go away? Please, give me a sign!

She prayed every night, to St. Brendan, to the Blessed Mother, and to her own mother, but the sign she needed so badly didn't come for two years.

The discount bookshop was one of Brenda's favorite places to go in town. A voracious reader, she spent virtually all her pocket money on books. Currently she was reading her way through Terry Pratchett's Discworld series. She was hoping to find one or two she'd missed here.

"Hi, Nick," she said to the shop assistant. He was a few years older than her and always had a book open, studying for his exams.

"We should put your name on the door," he said. "This is practically your second home."

"Any new Pratchett?"

"I think so. Yes, I believe _The Fifth Elephant_ came in this morning. It's on the shelf."

"Which shelf would that be?" she said, as if she didn't know.

"Let's see . . . maybe under 'P'?"

"I'll try there. Thanks."

She found it, and a few more she hadn't seen before. Checking her pockets, she found enough money for two, possibly three.

"Hmmm . . ." she thought. "_Elephant_ and . . . I don't think I have _Sourcery_. I think I'll getthose two."

On her way to the front, she dropped one of the books. She bent down to pick it up and glanced at the bottom row of books in front of her. One title in particular stood out: _A Definition of Human Mutation: Tapping the "X" Gene_, by Prof. Charles Xavier.

Curious, she picked it up and looked through it. The first chapter was entitled, "We Are Only Human."

I was probably about eleven or twelve years old when I first started hearing people's thoughts . . .

Hearing people's thoughts!

The voices she had heard in her head, that day at church . . . they weren't voices, they were people's thoughts. She was hearing what people were thinking. An enormous sense of relief washed over her. She wasn't a Devil-child after all, just a . . . mutant. What a strange-sounding word.

She read on:

At first I thought I must be going mad. How could I hear what was in other people's heads? I couldn't tell anyone for fear they'd either laugh at me or try to have me put away. But as I grew older I realized that I had been blessed with an extraordinary power . . . and that I wasn't the only one.

When I was seventeen, I met a young man who—

"You gonna buy that?" Nick had snuck up behind her while she wasn't looking.

"Oh!" She nearly dropped the book. "Yes. Yes, I am." She checked her funds again. Well, she could live without ice cream this week. "And the Pratchett, too, please."

Nick took her purchases over to the counter. "I've read this," he said, indicating the Xavier book. "He's a right smart bloke. D'you know he's from here?"

"From Ruttletop?" Brenda laughed. "Nobody's from Ruttletop!"

"No, I think he's from London. He did a speaking tour here four or five years ago. Very commanding presence."

"Really?"

"Maybe he'll do another one. Twelve pounds fifty."

"What? Oh." She fished the money out and put it on the counter, smoothing the rumpled bills.

Nick was looking at something in the back of the book. "I wonder if this e-mail addy is real."

"What?"

"He's put an e-mail address right on the last page here. Probably changed it by now, but it'd be worth checking out, I think."

"I think I'll read the book first," Brenda said, "then write and tell him what I think of it."

"Good plan." Nick gave her her change back, then put the books into a plastic bag.


	2. Departure

MINDSHADOW (part 2)

MINDSHADOW (part 2)

Brendahad to use the computers at the local library, since Sister Maria refused to even entertain the idea of getting a computer. She said they hadn't the money. It was closer to the truth, though, Brenda knew, that Sister was afraid of computers. The convent didn't even have a telly. Sister Maria would have been perfectly happy in the nineteenth century with gas lanterns and engraved stationery.

Brenda had no problem with the computer—she'd learned to use it on a previous visit to the library—but she had to time her visit so that there wouldn't be too many other people around. She still hadn't gotten used to the background noise of a roomful of thoughts. _It's a good thing I don't live in a city_, she thought, _or I would have gone mad by now. I hope this Professor Xavier can teach me how to block them out._

Once she got on, and got herself an e-mail account, she had another problem: what to say.

Where to start?

_Start at the beginning,_ Sister Maria would say. _That's always the best place._

All right then.

Dear Professor Xavier,

I've read your book and found it very . . . enlightening. Much of it reminds me of my own questions about

Mutant genes, and I swear your chapter "Discovery" could have been taken right out of my head. (Do you

Have a limit to your range?)

If it's possible, could you send me a reply when you have a chance?

Charles Xavier read with great interest the message that had popped up in his inbox. This young lady sounded like an ideal prospect for his school, if she was interested. He set to work composing a reply:

Dear Brenda,

It's good to hear from someone who's enjoyed my book so much. I enjoyed writing it, to tell you the

Truth. Believe it or not, I wrote most of it right where you're living now. I lived in Ruttletop for six years,

Until I left to come to America.

I'd like to hear more about your abilities. When did you first discover them?

And so began a correspondence that lasted for almost a year. Brenda learned much about herself and mutants in general, while the Professor found her innocence refreshing. It wasn't until the spring that mention of the school was made.

Your school sounds wonderful. Do all your students have similar powers, or are they all different? What are

They like? I can't wait to meet them!

Sadly, it seemed she would have to.

"We don't have the money to fly you to New York," Sister Maria said. "Plane tickets are expensive, you know."

"Even coach," added Sister Humberta.

Brenda's heart sank. She had had such hopes of going to Professor Xavier's school, ever since she had first heard about it. Now what would she do?

She did whatever she did in a crisis: she prayed.

"Hey," Nick said, the following week, "where've you been? I never see you any more!"

"Sorry," Brenda mumbled. 

Nick came around the counter until he was standing in front of her. He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face so he could see her eyes. "What's wrong?"

Brenda started to say "Nothing," but she couldn't get the word out. Suddenly she blurted out the whole thing: the school, how she really wanted to go, Sister Maria's announcement that she didn't have the money to send her. Her eyes were so full of tears that she couldn't see a thing, but she felt someone enter the shop.

"Go away!" she yelled, in the vague direction of the door.

The person (it was a woman) came toward her. "Is something wrong?"

Nick sighed, and told her. "She wanted to go to school in America but she can't because she can't afford a plane ticket."

"Oh, is that all?" The woman approached Brenda closely. Her attention seemed riveted on her—not on her face, but just below it.

_The locket_, Brenda realized, as she heard the woman's thoughts.

_It can't be. It can't . . ._

"You're the little girl that lives at St. Brendan's, aren't you?" the woman said.

"That's right. The Sisters named me for him."

"Well then." The woman turned toward Nick. "I'll just take the latest Danielle Steel and be on my way."

Nick blinked, as if he wasn't quite sure what had just happened, then went to get the book she had requested.

While he was gone Brenda studied the woman. She was about fiftyish, younger than the Sisters, and was fairly well-dressed. She looked . . . almost familiar somehow, as if they had met before.

Well, they probably had. She most likely lived in town; how else had she known where Brenda lived?

"Here you are," Nick said. He rang up the woman's book for her. No need for a bag, she said, she'd tuck it in her handbag.

She gave Brenda one last curious glance as she went out the door.

Nick returned. "Do you know her?"

"No," Brenda said, but she wasn't sure.

It was two days after that that the telephone call came.

"Brenda!" Sister Maria said excitedly. It was the first time in her whole life Brenda had ever seen Sister so excited. "It's Professor Xavier!"

Hope in her heart, Brenda picked up the phone. "Hello, Professor!"

"Hello, Brenda. It's good to hear your voice." She had heard his, in a video clip of a conference at which he had spoken, which she had found online. It was a warm, comforting voice. "I have good news for you."

"Oh?" No, she mustn't, she mustn't get her hopes up about the school. They didn't have the money, and that was that.

"I've just found out that someone bought a one-way ticket from London to New York, in your name. It's waiting for you at the airport."

Brenda's jaw dropped. "Who?"

"I have no idea."

It couldn't be the Sisters, they'd already said they couldn't. Who then? Who knew she needed money for a plane . . .

Nick! It had to be, he was the only other one she'd told! She'd have to thank him, next time she saw him. Which reminded her. "When is the ticket for?"

"Tomorrow. It's a 9:00AM flight."

Nine A.M.! Good Lord, they'd have to be up at the crack of dawn! But they already were anyway, she remembered with a smile. They were nuns, after all.

"I'll see you when you arrive in New York tomorrow evening," the Professor said. He sounded genuinely delighted.

"I'll run and pack right away," Brenda said.

As soon as she was off the phone, she threw her hands in the air and spun around in a joyful dance. "I'm going, I'm going! Tomorrow morning!"

"What do you mean?" Sister Maria asked.

Brenda filled her in on the exciting news. 

"Nine A.M.!" the older woman said. "Well, it's a two-hour drive to London. We'll have to leave first thing."

"I'll be ready," Brenda said. "I don't think I'll sleep tonight. I have to get my things together, I have to—I have to see Nick!"

"Nick?"

"At the bookstore, in town! I have to tell him! I have to thank him!" Brenda was already halfway out the door. She ran all the way to the bookstore, carried on wings of joy.

"Nick!" she cried as she burst through the door.

He looked up. "Oh, Brenda, it's you. Good, I wanted to talk to you about—"

"I'm going! To that school in New York! But you already knew that, you wonderful person you! Oh, I could kiss you!"

"Don't," Nick said, looking a little embarrassed. "There's people in here."

"How did you ever manage it? Did you have extra money put aside? I hope I didn't use up your holiday funds!"

"Wait, slow down. What are you talking about?" Nick held her by the arms to prevent her flying off into space. Or, more likely, knocking something over.

"The ticket. A plane ticket from London to New York. Didn't you . . .?"

Nick shook his head. "Wasn't me, love."

"But you were the only other person I've told! Who else could it have been?"

"Your guardian angel, maybe?" He was joking, but Brenda's face lit up.

"Yes, of course! I'll have to be sure to say a thank-you prayer to the Blessed Mother, and St. Brendan, and everyone else.One of them must have been the one." She realized that Nick had said something before she began gushing. "What did you want to say to me?"  
Nick sighed. "Nothing. It's not important." He reached down and gave her a hug. "Have fun at your school. I'll e-mail you as soon as I can."

"Thanks," she said. She was going to start crying in a moment. "Well, I should get home and pack."

"You do that."

"I'll see you when I come home at Christmas."

For a moment a shadow crossed Nick's face. Then it passed. "Yeah, I'll see you."

She had one last ice cream cone at the little shop on the corner. _I wonder,_ she thought, _if the ice cream in New York is this good? I guess I'll find out soon. _

She did sleep, after all, although she lay awake until nearly midnight thinking about her new school. What would the other students be like? Did they all have the same powers as she did, or were they all different? Were any of them her age? Did they like to read? Would they like her?

It seemed she'd barely gotten to sleep when Sister Maria tapped on her door. "Hurry, child, it's almost six. We need to leave soon to make your flight."

"What?" There was a moment when she thought that it was all a dream. There was no school in New York, and she wasn't any different from anyone else. Then the reality set in, and she got excited all over again.

After a hurried breakfast of cereal and fruit, and a final blessing from the Sisters, she put her bag in the car, and she and Sister Maria set off for the airport.

By the time they found the gate from which her flight was departing, they were already making the first boarding announcements. Brenda picked up her ticket at the window, and then she and Sister said their goodbyes.

It was hard to leave the woman who'd been so much of a mother to her these last fifteen years. She had to keep reminding herself that she was coming back in a few months. It wasn't like they'd never see each other again. And she'd call, and write, in the meantime.

"You'd better go, dear," Sister said. "Before the plane leaves without you."

They exchanged one last hug before Brenda picked up her bag and hurried through the gate. She glanced back once. Already Sister looked smaller, and she hadn't even left yet.

_Just GO already!_ A voice in her mind said, and she went. They closed the door behind her with a solid thud.


	3. Welcome Aboard

MINDSHADOW (part 2)

Welcome Aboard 

(Disclaimer: see Ch. 1.)

(Author's note: Sorry this took so long to post. I've been working on lots of other stuff, some of which will be posted here eventually. ((Plug—see my story "Prince of a Distant Star" in the Short Story category!)) I will try to be more timely with the next chapters. Thanks for the reviews, and keep them coming!)

Professor Xavier was updating his files when his cell phone rang. He wasn't into cutesy musical chimes or signature beeps; a good, solid ring would do just fine. He closed the file he was working on (it just happened to be Brenda's), picked up the phone, and said, "Hello?"

"Professor, it's Jean. We have a bit of a problem here."

Xavier blinked. "What sort of problem?"

"There's some sort of short-circuit in the Blackbird's control panel," Wolverine said. He and Jean were just returning from a reconnaissance mission. "I need somebody who's handy with a tool box to come take a look at it . . ."

"I'll send someone down right away. It sounds as if we may need to replace at least one circuit board."

"Where's Gadget-Boy?"

"If you mean Forge, he's on his way. Scott and Kurt took him to the mall to, quote; get him some duds that don't make him look like a refugee from 'That 70's Show', unquote. They've just returned."

"Bout time," Logan said, the barest hint of a smile in his voice. "That stuff looked bad enough the _first_ time around."

"Indeed." Xavier turned his attention to more important matters. "While I've got you both on the line, there's something we need to discuss."

"Oh?" Jean said.

"I'm calling a meeting in the study in fifteen minutes. I need everyone to be there. This is very important."

"What is it?"

"We're about to have a new arrival, a girl from England. Her name is Brenda. I've been corresponding with her for nearly a year now, and I think she'll fit in nicely with our little group."

"What's her power?" Logan asked.

"She can read thoughts and sense others' presence from distances of up to 50 feet."

"Hmmm. Not a bad defense, but she needs to learn some physical skills to back it up."

"Be gentle with her. She was raised by nuns."

"Hey, I've met nuns who could break knuckles with the best of them." Logan said, as Jean went to tell the others of the meeting. "Maybe she won't need much training after all."

Xavier found that an interesting statement on Logan's part. "When did you know nuns?" He didn't exactly seem like the parochial school type.

"Long time ago, back in Canada. One bunch of tough cookies, I'll tell you."

"I can imagine." Xavier nodded, a small smile on his lips. "Come to the meeting as soon as you can."

"Yeah, this shouldn't take long," Logan said, and hung up. 

Scott Summers—a.k.a. Cyclops—was in a rather uncomfortable position under his car when Jean Grey rapped on the hood.

"Uh, Jean, this isn't exactly a good time," Scott said, oil dripping onto his face. "I'm trying to find a leak right now . . ."

Jean shook her head and reached down to tweak Scott's nose in jest. "The leak that needs fixing is the one in your head, I think."

"Very fun—OW!" He banged his head on the tailpipe.

"Come out of there. We're having a meeting in a few minutes."

"But it's Saturday!"

"Professor Xavier said it was important."

"What's it about?"

"You'll find out." Jean extended a hand to help him up.

"I guess we shouldn't keep him waiting," Scott said. The two of them went inside, Jean wiping the gunk from Scott's face with a tissue from her pocket.

Upstairs, the girl known only as Rogue was getting overly intimate with a box of tissues herself.

She'd picked up a particularly nasty head cold, probably at school when that kid sneezed on her. Oh well, at least she had a chance to catch up on her shows. That was the only good thing about being stuck in bed. She didn't have a roommate interrupting her, either; Kitty had temporarily moved into Jean's room to get away from the germs and stuff.

There was a tap at her door.

"Go away!" Rogue yelled—or tried to; it came out as a sort of croak.

"It's just me," Jean said. "Can I come in?"

"You sure you want to?" Rogue groaned. "I'm still pretty contagious."

"I'll take my chances." Jean pushed open the door (none of the doors in the mansion locked, for safety reasons) and came to the girl's side. "How are you feeling?"

"Lousy. I can't even breathe! Do I have a fever?"

"I'll check," Jean said. She found a digital thermometer in the bathroom and took the girl's temperature. "Yeah, you do. 99.2."

"Great." Rogue moaned, trying to get comfortable.

"Are you taking anything? Any medication?"

"No. I can't take stuff. It just makes me feel sick to my stomach. Or sleepy."

"I know what you mean." Jean nodded. "I took Nyquil once and was out for three days. Woke up clear as a bell, but I missed all my shows and they didn't repeat them for months!"

Rogue started to laugh, but it turned into a cough. "Listen," she said when she was finished, "did you want something? I mean, besides just to check on me?"

"Actually . . ." Jean wasn't sure whether or not to tell her about the meeting, since it seemed unlikely that the younger girl would make it. Finally, though, she said, "We're supposed to be getting a new student tonight, a girl from England. We're having a meeting about it in a few minutes."

"Trying to get rid of me so soon?" Rogue sighed.

"No, of course not," Jean assured her. "I'll find out all the details and keep you posted."

"All right."

"Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"Well . . . now that I think of it, some juice might be nice. My throat hurts _so_ bad . . ."

"Any particular kind?"

"I don't care. Just something cool and wet. And keep Fuzzy Muppet-Boy out of my hair."

Jean smiled at that. Rogue had come up with a lot of colorful nicknames for Kurt, but Fuzzy Muppet-Boy took the cake. "Okay, I'll tell everyone to let you rest. I'll be back with the juice as soon as I can." She shut the door quietly behind her, leaving Rogue to rest—or at least try to.

She just hoped the new girl didn't play her music too loud.

Scott found Evan, Kurt, and Kitty in the rec room watching the beginning of _Cowboy Bebop_, judging from the horn-heavy theme music blaring out of the TV. They were currently on an anime feeding frenzy, having discovered a shop in the neighborhood that rented anime videos.

"Hey, guys," Scott said.

They didn't seem to have heard him. Evan was on the couch; Kurt and Kitty shared the big armchair. Scott couldn't see the remote at first, then he spotted it on the floor, next to a crumpled up potato chip bag. He scooped it up (the remote, not the bag) and hit the Pause button.

"**Hey! **What'd you do that for?" Evan demanded.

"We've got a meeting to go to, smart guy. The tape can wait."

"But I have to get it back to John at the rental store tomorrow! He charges two bucks extra if it's late!"

"This won't take long," Scott said. "But it's kind of important."

"I didn't do it!" Evan and Kurt both insisted at the same time.

Scott just laughed. "I doubt anyone did anything. We'll find out when we get there."

Kitty untangled herself from Kurt and got out of the chair. "Race you," she said, phasing through the floor.

"Are we all here?" Professor Xavier asked.

"All except Rogue," Jean said. "She can't make it, but I promised to fill her in."

"Good." He addressed everyone. "We have a new student arriving this evening, from England. A quaint little town, where I spent some time years ago . . ."

"Vot's he like?" Kurt asked.

"He's a _she_, Kurt," the Professor explained. "Her name is Brenda Ellis. She's fifteen. I've been in contact with her for almost a year."

"Took a long time to convince her folks to let her go, huh?" Evan asked.

Professor Xavier looked somber. "Unfortunately, she doesn't have parents, Evan. She was raised in a convent."

"That's, like, so sad," Kitty murmured.

"Indeed. Ororo, you and I will be leaving shortly to pick her up at the airport. The rest of you, try to make her feel welcome."

"We'll get a cake!" exclaimed Kitty. She looked up at Logan. "Please?"

"What do I look like, some kinda errand boy?" Logan grumbled.

Kitty just gave him the big, sad eyes look.

"Oh, all right."

"And ice cream!" Kurt added.

"Hey, you didn't get _me_ a cake!" Evan complained.

Logan looked at Kurt, who just shrugged. "I didn't get one eizzer, but I don't mind."

Brenda's fingers twitched nervously in her lap as she waited for someone to come for her. She wasn't sure she could go through with this if she were on her own. She didn't even have money for a taxi.

Suddenly she spotted Professor Xavier in the doorway, accompanied by a woman with dark skin and white hair. Almost simultaneously, Xavier saw Brenda and approached her. 

"Hello, Brenda," he said. "It's good to finally meet you."

Brenda ran up and threw her arms around him enthusiastically. "You don't know how glad I am to be here!" she exclaimed.

"I can imagine. Brenda, this is my associate Ororo Munroe." The woman with the white hair smiled and extended a hand. Up close she looked quite young, maybe only in her twenties.

"Hello," Brenda said. "Are you with the school?"

"I suppose so." Ororo said. "Is that all you have?"

Looking at her suitcase, Brenda nodded. "Just about. This and the carry-on."

"Need a hand?" Professor Xavier asked her.

"No, I think I can manage, thanks." The big bag was on wheels, and Ororo noticed that Brenda was maneuvering it with ease. 

Ororo glanced at her watch. "We'd better get going. They'll have all the decorations up by now."

"Decorations?" Brenda asked.

"I think the other students have planned a party for you back at the school," Xavier said with the hint of a smile. "We'd best not keep them waiting."

Toad, having nothing better to do, decided to go spy on the X-Freaks. He hid in a tree and watched as a car pulled into the driveway. He made faces at Xavier and the weather witch and was about to spit at them, when he saw a third person emerge from the car.

The first thing he saw was long blonde hair, exactly the color of his mother's. Then he saw her eyes: deep, dark pools of blue.

She was so pretty, standing there in her filmy gray dress, looking up at her new home. He wanted to be there with her, touching her hair, holding her hand—

He sneezed suddenly, twice. There was a cold going around school, and he'd been one of the first to catch it. He'd thought he was getting better, too.

The girl's head came up sharply, and for a moment she appeared to be looking directly into his eyes.

"Who's there?" she called out.

He tried to stay perfectly still, hoping she couldn't see him.

"Is someone there?" She started to walk towards him, but something from the house distracted her. He took advantage of the opportunity to hop off.

God, she was pretty. He hoped he'd be seeing her in school on Monday. Maybe they'd even be in some of the same classes. She could help him with his homework.

Or maybe . . . they'd meet somewhere else.

Either way, he'd see her again. He'd make sure of it.


	4. Brenda's New Home

MINDSHADOW (part 2)

Brenda's New Home 

Brenda looked over her shoulder as she stepped in the door. "I could have sworn I heard something."

"Probably a squirrel," said a young man with brown hair, who was carrying a Game Boy in one hand. The light glinted off a pair of sunglasses, their ruby lenses hiding the color of his eyes. "Hi, Brenda, I'm Scott."

"Hello, Scott," she said. "You e-mailed me, didn't you?"

"That's right, I did."

"Do you really have to wear those all the time?"

"Yeah." He explained to her the extent of his powers and the need to keep them under control.

"I see." Brenda was impressed. She'd never met anyone who could shoot fire out of their eyes before.

Ororo tugged on her arm. "Come and meet the others."

They went into another room where a long table had been decked with food: a huge sheet cake, cookies (left over from the Scout fund-raising drive), some of Kurt's mother's special cakes, a host of sandwiches, chips, and snack foods the likes of which she'd never seen before.

On the wall behind the table, there were balloons and streamers, and a banner which read WELCOME BERNDA.

"Who's Bernda?" she asked.

Ororo sighed and rolled her eyes. "Kuuurrt . . ."

"Vas?" Kurt Wagner appeared out of thin air with a pop, and flopped onto the sofa.

"You really need to work on your spelling."

"Vhy?" Then he looked up and noticed the banner. "Ach! Sorry!" He pulled the banner down and popped out of the room again..

Brenda was staring after him. "How does he do that?"

"I'm not sure," Xavier said. "It may have something to do with his molecular structure. I've never done any tests to find out for sure."

"What do you do?" A girl wearing blue jeans and a pink sweater popped up beside her.

Brenda nearly shrieked in surprise. Another teleporter? "Where did you come from?"

"Downstairs. The computer room. Kurt's fixing the banner for you." The girl smiled and offered Brenda her hand. "Like, welcome aboard. I'm Kitty."

"Hi, Kitty. Do you teleport too?"

Kitty laughed. "Oh, no. I can walk through walls. And floors, and ceilings, and even people sometimes—though that's really gross."

"Sounds like it." Brenda made a face at the thought of actually passing _through_ a person. 

A dark-skinned boy with blond hair joined them. "Hi, Brenda, I'm Evan," he said. 

"Hello," she said. 

His thoughts jumped out at her: _She's pretty! I was kind of expecting Quasimodo or something._

"Did I mention," she said, "I'm a telepath?"

"Uh oh."Evan blushed with embarassment. "Sorry."

"It's all right. You can't help what you're thinking. I don't snoop around in people's heads all the time, but sometimes there are thoughts so loud I can't help overhearing."

"Does that happen a lot?"

"Not all the time, but a lot of it. Especially if I don't have my shield down."

"Your **what**?"

Brenda explained how she had learned to erect a mental shield to protect her from the babble of background thoughts. "It's especially bad in public places, but once I learned how to shield myself, I could manage. I'd go mad if I didn't."

"Yeah, I can imagine."

Scott looked at them both and said, "Has Brenda seen the Danger Room yet?"

"Danger Room?" Brenda wasn't sure she liked the sound of that.

"It's our training facility," Scott explained. "Where we run different battle simulations. We usually train for about an hour a day, every day except Sunday."  
"Sundays we train for two hours," Kurt said, reappearing with the corrected banner. "And it feels like three!"

Brenda could tell he was joking by the gleam in his eyes. "Well, a little hard work never hurt anyone."

"See," Scott said, "that's what I keep telling him."

A red-haired girl in a purple top joined them. "Hi, I'm Jean Grey." _Welcome aboard_, she said in Brenda's mind. _I'm a telepath just like you. In fact, I might be helping out with your training._

_Training?_ Brenda "asked".

_That won't come till a bit later._

"Why don't we get you settled in?" she said out loud. "I'll show you to your room so you can put your stuff away."

"Thank you," Brenda said, following the older girl upstairs. "I really appreciate you all being so nice. I haven't had that many friends until now."

"That's a shame," Kitty said, joining them. "Wait till you get to Bayville High and meet the other kids. Some of them are real jerks, but most of them are nice. I'll introduce you around—I think we might even be in some of the same classes."

"Well, thank you," Brenda said. 

They went up the stairs, down the hall, and into a room that stood open, waiting for her.

Brenda looked around. "Is this it, then?"

"Well, it is a bit small," Jean said, "but Professor Xavier thought you'd be more comfortable by yourself than sharing a room . . . "

"Small? It's at least twice the size of my room at home! Maybe three times!" That might even have been modest, as Brenda's old room, an average Sister's cell, was about the size of the closet here. She wondered how she'd fill it up.

"I don't think we have anything smaller," Jean said. "Why don't you try it for a while and see how it works out? Maybe you'll get used to it."

Brenda opened the closet door and stared at the empty hangers inside. Hanging on the end was a tiny blue bathrobe. "Whose is this?"

"I don't know. I don't believe anyone's had this room before."

Brenda touched it, then lifted it off the hanger and held it up. It was too small to belong to anyone but a child. But there were no children here—at least, not ones small enough to fit into this. "How odd."

"Why don't you unpack your—" Jean broke off as Brenda opened the big suitcase, which was full of books. "Where are your clothes?"

"Oh, they're in the smaller one." Brenda opened it and showed her her entire wardrobe: her spare gray dress, three pairs of knickers (underpants), several balled socks, a football jersey Nick had lent her and then forgotten about, and a blue scarf. Also in the carryon bag were her toothbrush, a bottle of perfume, two hair ribbons, and a comb.

No personal items, none at all.

"Don't you have any pictures of your family or anything?" Jean asked.

"No," Brenda sighed. "The Sisters are my family, and Sister Maria says that vanity is a sin. Personally I think she just doesn't photograph well . . ." They shared a laugh at that. It felt good to have someone to laugh with.

"What about your parents? Do you have any pictures of them?"

"No. I never knew my father, and my mother died when I was born. I don't have anything of hers anymore, not since the flood last year. We had four feet of water in our basement. Ruined everything."

"That's, like, so sad," Kitty said. She was looking at some of the books. "You like Harry Potter?"

"Doesn't everybody?"

"That's true," Jean laughed. "There was a two-week waiting list for the new book at the library. Someone always had it out."

"I know. There was at home, too. God bless Nick, though: he special-ordered it for me."

"Nick?" Kitty asked. "Who's he? Your boyfriend?"

It was Brenda's turn to laugh. "Oh, no! He's just a friend. He works at the book shop in town. I've known him for years. He's older than me, anyway. Starting university this fall."

"Ooh, older guy," Kitty said. "Any pictures of him?"

"As a matter of fact . . ." Brenda dug through her purse until she found a battered Polaroid. "That's Nick with Craig Charles at the Red Dwarf convention last year. He went with some mate of his."

"What's Red Dwarf?" Kitty asked.

"A television show," Brenda told her. "Nick turned me on to it, actually. Have you seen it?"

"Is it that disgusting thing with the slime beast that sucks emotions?"

"Oh, you've seen it, then."

"Just that one. Kurt was watching it. He thought it was funny."

"Not your cup of tea, eh?"

"Nah. I'm more of a Buffy fan."

Scott called up to them. "Jean, where's the ice cream?"

"Did you look in the freezer?" _Of course not,_ she thought, and Brenda picked it up. _Why should he look in the obvious place? He's such an idiot sometimes!_

"Yeah, it's not there!"

"I hope Kurt didn't eat it already," Kitty grumbled.

"What kind of ice cream was it?" Brenda asked.

"Chocolate, I think," Jean said. "Why?"

"In a plastic bag?"

"I think so."

"I saw it by the door when I came in. I hope it isn't melted by now."

"I'll go get it," Kitty said, melting through the floor again. 

Jean muttered something about boys who'd lose their own stupid heads if they weren't attached. "Can you get this away by yourself?"

"I think so."

"Good. I'll meet you downstairs."

After Jean was gone, Brenda sorted all her books on the top shelf of the closet. This wouldn't do. She'd have to see about getting some proper bookshelves for her room.

But that would have to wait for another day. She went downstairs to rejoin the party.

Toad, meanwhile, was wandering around town looking for an excuse not to go home.

He couldn't stop thinking about that girl. Just seeing the sunlight glinting off her hair made him want to touch it, to smell it, the sweetness of her . . .

He didn't want to lose that good mood, so he didn't go right home. He started out at the arcade, but the guy closed up shop at eight. Eight o'clock! How could any place close that early? It was practically the middle of the afternoon!

Then he took his remaining money (most of it swiped from the change jar in the kitchen) to the movie theater. He didn't care what was playing, really; he paid his money, went in, and sat in the back row.

While he waited for the previews to start, he closed his eyes. He was still feeling kind of lousy. Maybe he could take a little nap before the movie started, and he'd feel better. Maybe he'd even dream of her.

He sat back in his seat, closed his eyes, and the next thing he knew an usher was shaking him awake.

"Excuse me, sir, you have to leave now."

"Huh? What?" Toad nearly jumped out of his seat. Then he stared up at the blank screen. "It's over?"

"The closing credits finished more than ten minutes ago. I tried to wake you up three times, but you just rolled over and said something about golden hair."

"I did?" Todd blinked.

"You have to leave now, so we can clean up in here before the next show starts," the usher said.

Looking slightly embarrassed, Todd asked, "What time is it?"

"It's almost ten past eleven."

"Aw, no! I gotta get home!" Toad fled the theater as if Satan himself were after him. He got home in about twenty minutes . . . 

. . . just in time to see Mystique waiting up for him, an angry look on her face.

"Where have you _been_?" she demanded.

"I went out." He tried to get past her, but she stepped to the side to block his way.

"You're not supposed to _be_ out! You've been out of school the last two days, and this morning you were coughing your lungs out!"

"Well . . . I felt better, so I went for a walk."

"For four hours?"

"I . . . got lost?"

Mystique looked at him dubiously. He should have known she wouldn't buy it. But he couldn't tell her the truth—not yet, anyway.

"I think you need to take your medicine," she said, an angry edge to her voice.

Todd's eyes widened in horror. "No! Please! Anything but that!"

"Cut the amateur theatrics." She sat him down in a kitchen chair and rummaged in the dish drainer for a spoon.

"C'mon, I hate that stuff! It makes my stomach hurt!"

"What's going on?" a sleepy voice asked.

Todd and Mystique turned to see Blob standing in the doorway, staring at them both.

"Now you've done it!" Mystique said.

"Done what?"

"You want to wake the whole neighborhood up too?" Mystique chided Todd.

"What?" He blinked in confusion.

"Are you in trouble?" Blob asked.

"Go back to sleep, Fred," Mystique ordered him. "I'm handling this."

Todd hoped she'd forgotten all about the medicine, but when he turned around he faced a spoonful of the foul stuff. "Can't I just go sleep it off?" he whined.

"Stop being such a baby!" Mystique forced the spoon between his lips.

He swallowed, and almost gagged. It was **horrible.** He sat there, trying not to throw up.

"Good night, Todd," Mystique said, and turned out the kitchen light, leaving the boy alone in the dark.


	5. First Day

MINDSHADOW (part 2)

First Day 

(A/N: Thanks for all the nice reviews! Yes, there will be more Brenda/Todd romance in upcoming chapters. I hadn't had a romance in mind when I started this, but sometimes stories seem to write themselves. Stay tuned, there's plenty more to come!)

The party went on until late in the evening, it being a Saturday. Brenda left about 11:30—the latest she'd ever been up in her life, not counting Midnight Mass on Christmas.

She made the rounds and said her goodnights, then started up the stairs. It was strange to think that this would be her first night in a different bed. She wondered if she'd be able to sleep. After all, it had been quite a day.

She was so lost in thought that she bumped into someone on the landing.

"Oh! I'm sorry," she said, stepping back.

"You're the new kid," the stranger said. He was an older man, probably around mid-thirties; not a student, then.

"That's right. I didn't see you at the party."

"I'm not much for parties," he said. "Not if I can't drink."

She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"You don't like loud, repetitive dance music, do you?"

"No."

"Good."

"You **don't** like it, then?"

"Sometimes I feel like throwing their stupid CD's out the window. I'll 'Let the Dogs Out', all right!"

Brenda laughed at that. "I can't stand that song, either. I'm more into easy listening."

The man nodded. "My name's Logan."

"Brenda." She started to extend a hand, then noticed he didn't do the same. "Sorry."

"Oh, it's okay. I'm just dirty. I was out working on my bike. I was just going to wash up."

"Well, I won't keep you then. Nice meeting you, Logan." Brenda turned away and started up the stairs, not realizing until she was in her room that she hadn't picked up any thoughts from him at all, not even background noise. Who **was** this man?

She had that question on her mind the next morning when she woke up. As it was only 6:30 in the morning, she didn't expect anyone else to be around, but as with everything else in this place, she was pleasantly surprised. Logan was sitting at the table, reading the morning paper. "All this over one stupid plane," he grumbled to himself.

"All what?" Brenda tried to read over his shoulder.

"This business with the US and China over that spy plane," he said, showing her. "Governments are made up of some real blockheads, in my opinion."

"I don't know much about that," Brenda confessed.

"Who really understands politics anyway?"

"What's for breakfast?"

"Nothing yet. Not till about nine or so, when everyone else gets up. You can have some coffee and a muffin in the meantime."

"Thank you." The muffins were nice and warm, like they were just out of the oven. Brenda took one and eagerly popped it in her mouth. "Mmm! These are good! Did you make them?"

"Those are Jean's handiwork, actually. She made them a little while ago."

"Couldn't she sleep either?" Brenda asked.

"She's just an early riser. I think she left the party right after you did—"

The boom of music came from upstairs. "Aw, for cryin' out loud, it's too early in the morning!"

BAMF! Kurt Wagner appeared, hanging upside-down from the chandelier, and dropped into the seat next to Brenda. "Mmm, muffins!" he exclaimed in delight.

"That your music shaking the whole house down?" Logan asked.

"Are you kidding? I hate boy bands!" Kurt scowled in disgust.

"Well, go tell whoever it is to turn their radio down!"

"Can't I finish my muffin first?"

Logan's only response was a threatening glower.

"Okay, okay!" Kurt said. "I'll go!" BAMF!

Brenda coughed and waved away the smoke. "How do you get used to that?"

"I haven't. I'm used to being on my own; I'm not the family type."

The sound of a loud argument came from upstairs.

"Terrific," Logan grumbled. "Now everyone'll be up."

"I'll go see what's wrong." Brenda got up and quickly ran up the stairs. The raised voices she heard turned out to be Kitty's and Kurt's.

"They are **not** stupid! I **like** the Backstreet Boys!"

"You ever hear of headphones?"

"It's not that loud!"

"I could hear it downstairs!"

_Stop it!_ Brenda directed the thought at both of them. That got their attention.

"Kitty, maybe you could turn it down just a little bit? And keep your door closed?"

Kitty sighed in annoyance. "Well, Kurt didn't have to be a jerk about it!"

"I am not!"

"Oh, look," said a voice from across the hall, "the newlyweds are fighting."

All three of them turned to see a girl in a dark green robe, standing in the doorway of the room directly opposite.

"Rogue?" Kurt said. "Should you be up?"

"How can I sleep with that junk pounding into my ears?" The girl called Rogue coughed several times, then blew her nose into a tissue scrunched up in her hand.

"Are you okay?" Brenda asked. "You don't look so good."

Rogue coughed again. "I think I'll live."

"She's been sick since Friday," Kitty explained.

"That explains why I didn't see you at the party last night," said Brenda. "Would you like some herbal tea?"

"As long as it's not too hot."

"I'll go and see if we have it, then," Brenda said, and went back downstairs.

Logan was surprised to see her back so soon. "I see you got the music turned down."

"Yes. Do we have any herbal tea?"

"I think there's some in the pantry. What flavor did you want?"

"It doesn't matter." She found a canister and started boiling some water on the stove. "It's not for me anyway. It's for that girl, Rogue."

Logan nodded. "Poor kid. She could really use it. I just hope nobody else gets this bug—"

"AAA-CHHOOOOO!"The thunderous sneeze nearly shook the house. The worst part was, it wasn't Rogue.

"Oh, brother," Logan grumbled. "Me and my big mouth. Who was that?"

"I think that was Scott," Jean said, coming in from outside. She was pleased to see that her muffins were a big hit, but winced at the thought of the cold spreading throughout the house. What if everyone got sick? Who would take care of them?

"I'll go check on him," Brenda offered. "Maybe I'll bring him some tea, too. And anyone else who needs it. Where is he?"

"Up in his room, I think. I'll show you."

The teakettle whistled cheerfully at that moment. Brenda poured out two cups of tea and put them on a tray. "Does Rogue like sugar in her tea?"

"I don't know. I don't think I've ever seen her drink tea," Jean said.

Brenda put the sugar bowl and a small pitcher of milk on the tray. Then she followed Jean upstairs to Rogue's room.

The girl was in bed when they arrived. Hovering over her like a guardian angel was Kurt, who was currently in the midst of taking her temperature.

"_Ach_, I don't like the look of this!"

"What is it?" Brenda asked.

"Vun hundred and three," he said, showing her.

"Am I gonna die?" Rogue moaned.

"No, of course not," Brenda said. "Here's your tea."

Rogue took a cautious sip, her eyes closed. To her surprise, it was pretty good.

"Do you need more sugar?" Brenda asked.

"What? No, it's fine." She drank some more. "Matter of fact, it's the best drink I've ever had."

"I just hope it helps you get over your cold soon," Brenda told her. "I'll come back in a minute and see how you're doing."

"She'll be okay," Jean said. "Let's go check on the next batch of muffins and see if they're done."

Once they were safely outside, Brenda said, "I thought we were going to Scott's room?"

"We are. I just didn't want to worry her. She might take it personally."

Scott's room was neater than Rogue's; he had "compulsive neatnik" written all over him. Or would have, if he hadn't been tangled in the sheets, his head hanging off the edge of the bed.

"Uh, Scott . . . Scott? You awake?"

"No," he groaned, trying to get up. He sounded like he'd gone twelve rounds with Godzilla and lost miserably.

"Are you okay?" Jean asked. "I heard you sneeze a little while ago."

"I'll tell you as soon as I get my head screwed back on." Scott pushed the sheet aside and stumbled to his feet.

Jean caught him before he fell. "You **are** sick," she murmured, feeling his forehead. "Honey, you're burning up. Let's get you back in bed."

"I brought some tea," Brenda offered.

"Great," Scott moaned. He started coughing so hard that his shoulders shook. Jean struggled to hold him up, using her power to help her. When the coughing fit had passed, she tucked him into bed and took the tea from Brenda. "I'll take it from here. I owe him one for taking care of me last winter when I had that awful flu."

"Okay."

"Would you mind taking the muffins out of the oven for me?"

"Sure."

"Thanks."

On her way downstairs, Brenda stopped to do a quick scan.

"Scan" was what she called her tele-location power, and there were actually two types: "scan" was a generalized search of everyone in the vicinity. Because the power was so diffused, the range was limited—usually just everyone in a particular building or area about two blocks square. It depended on how many minds were concentrated in that area.

"Search," on the other hand, was used to pinpoint one particular mind, and the range on that was much greater: up to two miles. The catch was that it had to be a mind familiar to her. She couldn't find a stranger, for example, but if one of the Sisters was lost, she could find them no matter where they were.

Her scan lasted only a minute or so, just long enough to see where everyone was and what they were doing. Evan was still sleeping. Kitty had given up on the music and gone downstairs to see if breakfast was ready. Ororo was taking a walk on the grounds, and the Professor was in his room, though he wasn't asleep. He sensed her as her mind touched his, and sent a greeting her way.

When she had finished the scan, she went and took the muffins out of the oven, leaving them to cool on top of the stove. She felt like part of the family already.

There were two Catholic churches in the area: St. Catherine's, about 10 minutes away, and Our Lady of Nazareth, towards the center of town.

Brenda had expected to go to church by herself. She didn't know if anyone else went, and it had seemed impolite to inquire about something as personal as religion.

So she was understandably surprised to find herself part of a rather sizable group: Jean, Kurt, Ororo, Evan, and, believe it or not, Logan. There was a nine o'clock mass at St. Catherine's that they all attended. Kitty had offered to stay behind and take care of Scott and Rogue.

"You wanna sit up front or on the side?" Logan asked Brenda.

"Wherever you'd like." Brenda said. They found a space in the middle and made themselves comfortable.

It was a very pretty church. Lots of stained glass glittered in the windows. It reminded Brenda of the Christmas lights in town, but Christmas was still months away. She forced down a wave of homesickness and forced herself to concentrate on the Mass. That, at least, was the same as it was at home.

Up in his room, Todd was still sleeping. He'd been up for hours, unable to sleep after that awful medicine had been forced down his throat, and hadn't dropped off until almost dawn.

His dreams were full of her, the blonde girl whose name he didn't even know. He imagined himself dancing with her under the stars, on a white beach that seemed to stretch on forever . . . .

Suddenly he sat bolt upright, awakened by an urgent need to vomit. _I told her,_ he thought. _I told her that stuff would make me sick to my stomach, but she never listens!_

He raced to the bathroom, only a few steps away, and clutched the edge of the sink as he heaved up the contents of his stomach.

He hadn't realized he'd left the door open until he heard a voice say, "You okay?"

"What are you doing here?" Toad asked Blob.

"Going to the bathroom. At least I was until I saw you were in here. Are you still sick?"

Todd winced as another spasm wracked his stomach. Geez, he hadn't even eaten that much yesterday. How could he have anything left?

"I think I'm gonna die," he moaned.

"You will if Ms. Darkholme catches you out late again," said Blob. "She was pretty mad, wasn't she?"

"You said it," Todd groaned. His stomach seemed to be settling down—for now—but his head felt like it was full of liquid Jello that was beginning to harden. "I feel like my head's gonna explode. Oh man, I never even got her name."

"Whose name?"

"That girl at Xavier's. She just arrived last night." The room was starting to spin around, and so were Todd's eyes. He passed out seconds later. Fred caught him before his head hit the porcelain.

"What's going on?" Mystique demanded.

"I think he's still sick," Blob answered, carrying the unconscious boy back to his room. "Oh, he said there's a new girl at Xavier's school."

"Is there?" Mystique seemed interested in this bit of news. "When did she get there?"

"Last night." They put Toad back in his bed. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his face as they adjusted the top sheet.

"Do you think he's gonna be okay?" Blob asked Mystique.

"Just let him sleep for now," she said. "We have a great deal to accomplish in the meantime."

Sunday afternoon was rather quiet, both at Xavier's school and at the Brotherhood's house.

Brenda took the time to put another pot of tea on, and then she settled in with a book.

She was nearly at her favorite part when she felt Professor Xavier's summons in the back of her mind: _Brenda, I need to see you in my office right away. We need to talk about school tomorrow._

_What about it?_

_There are . . . certain things you have to know._

She reached the office, went in, and shut the door behind her.

"Please sit down."

"What is this all about?" Brenda asked.

"I know you've never been to public school before. Like any other microcosm of society, there are all kinds of people there. Some nice . . . and some who aren't so nice."

"Yes, Jean and Kitty told me there were some real jerks."

"There are those, but that's not what I'm talking about." He slid a photograph across the desk to her. "We have enemies. Mutants, like ourselves, who have chosen to follow a darker path."

"And they go to school with us?"

He told her everything—including that the principal of the school she would be attending in the morning was a mutant, a shape-changer called Mystique. "The others already know all this. I'll tell you what I've told them: you are not to use your powers at school, unless there's an emergency and there's no other way. And you are not to allow these students—" He tapped the photograph of four boys in shabby street clothes—"to goad you into a fight on school grounds. Remember to always take the high road when dealing with others. Treat them with respect, even if they don't seem to deserve it."

Brenda looked at the photograph, memorizing the faces of her so-called enemies. She didn't understand the reasoning behind what she had been told, but she had been brought up to respect her elders, and she would obey. She would steer clear of these troublemakers as best she could.


	6. Getting Along With Others

MINDSHADOW (part 2)

Getting Along With Others 

Brenda had come from a world where mornings were still, and quiet. She was in no way prepared for the chaos that went on in her new home.

"Where's my other sneaker?" Evan demanded, waving its twin in the air.

"Did you look behind the couch?" his aunt asked between sips of tea.

"Yes! It's not there!"

"How about the entry hall?"

"I **looked**!"

"I think I saw it on the front porch," Brenda said.

"What's it doing on the porch?"

"Like, maybe if you didn't kick them off as soon as you came in the house, you could, like, find them!" Kitty exclaimed. She was fixing her hair in the hall mirror, since both bathrooms were occupied.

"Found it!" came the triumphant cry from outside.

Brenda, who had been up and dressed since six o'clock, sat calmly waiting for the others to finish their preparations.

They were almost ready to go when Scott came downstairs.

"What are you doing up?" Jean asked him. He looked a little better than yesterday, but he was still running a temperature and coughing pretty hard.

"I need you to get the homework for me," he said.

"Okay, but—"

"And return my library books."

"Yes, but I think you should—"

"And make sure these guys get at least an hour's practice in the Danger Room—"

Jean reached out and put her hands over his. "Scott," she said, "go to bed. I'll handle it."

"What about—"

"Scott! I can handle it. Don't worry. The world won't fall apart if you're out sick for one day."

"I'll take care of him," Storm said. "You just get to school. Have a good day."

"We're still waiting for Kurt," Jean said.

"He's in the car already," Brenda told her.

Logan was driving them to school, which was almost unheard of. He claimed he had errands to do in town. Brenda had a feeling (she still couldn't read him—was he blocking her somehow?) that he really wanted to make sure she got off okay. He seemed so rough on the outside, but she could tell inside he was really a sweet person.

He'd never admit to it, of course . . .

"How's Rogue?" Brenda asked Kurt, when they were underway.

"Much better," he said. "Zat tea of yours is fantastic! I had some myself. She'll be up and around in no time."

"Let's hope so."

Brenda was thinking about the principal of the school, the person she was supposed to see first thing, being her enemy. _Does she know we know?_

_I'm not sure, _came the response from Jean. _If she does, she's never mentioned it. She has to, though._

_That's a bit scary._

_Just treat her with respect and it'll be all right._

_Thanks._

_Good luck._

"Hang on a second, Princess," Logan said to her as she started to get out of the car. "I want to talk to you."

Brenda looked at the others and shrugged. "I'll see you at lunchtime, if not sooner."

"Close the door."

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I just want you to watch out for those delinquents in the Brotherhood," he said. "I know Charlie already warned you, but trust me, you can't hear it enough. They're trouble. Stay far away from them."

She looked at him curiously. "Why are you so worried about me?"

"Maybe . . ." He found it hard to put into words. "Maybe cause you haven't even asked yet why you can't read my mind."

Her eyes went wide. _How did he know?_ "I thought you must be . . . blocking me somehow."

"You didn't wonder why?"

"I thought you must have your reasons."

He grinned, and she felt she'd passed some kind of test. "You don't want to mess around in my head, Princess. It's not a nice neighborhood."

"I'll remember that."

"Have fun at school, now."

"I will. Goodbye, Logan." She waved to him as he drove off.

Actually, it **had** occurred to her to wonder what was so horrible in his mind that he had to keep it from her, but she tried to put her curiosity aside. There were some things that even telepaths were not meant to know.

"Excuse me?"

The head secretary, a plump, middle-aged woman with oddly bright red hair, looked up. "Can I help you, dearie?"

"I'm here to see Ms. Darkholme?"

"Your name?"

"Brenda. Brenda Ellis."

"Brenda . . . Brenda . . . oh yes, here it is. She'll be right with you, have a seat."

Brenda sat in one of the hard plastic chairs. No one was in the office this early in the morning, which was good. She didn't have her shield up yet, and stray thoughts filtered into her head like background noise in a restaurant . . .

_. . . **told** him the roses would die if he over-watered them, but does he . . ._

_. . . so hot! But he'd never go out with me . . ._

_. . . who does she think she is, little miss Goody-Goody?_

The door to the inner office opened. A severe-looking woman in a charcoal-gray suit stepped out. "Brenda Ellis?" she called.

Brenda stood. "Yes, ma'am."

"I'm Ms. Darkholme, the principal. Welcome to Bayville High." She led the girl into her inner sanctum.

_Said the spider to the fly_, Brenda thought nervously. She clamped her shield down tightly, not wanting to read this woman's thoughts.

_Does she know we know?_ She had asked Jean, and though the other girl hadn't known for sure, Brenda felt now that she **did** know, that she must know. She knew . . . and she hated her.

But her outward manner, like her appearance, was deceptively charming. She talked about the school's academic programs, the music department ("I understand you sing," she said, and Brenda felt that twinge of nervousness again), the various sports programs, and other things that Brenda didn't quite catch because she was too busy watching the woman's face and thinking: _I can't believe that's an illusion. It looks so real!_

"Do you have any questions?"

Brenda snapped back to attention. "No, ma'am."

"Very well." Ms. Darkholme stuck her head out the door. "Myra, would you please call Todd Tolensky to the office for me?"  
"Will do." The secretary picked up the mike as Ms. Darkholme closed the door.

"Since it's your first day, I've arranged for a fellow student to show you around. He's in most of your classes, which should make it easier for you." She sat back in her chair, pressed her palms together, and waited.

The fact that Todd was in school at all was surprising in itself, given that he'd been so sick yesterday. Mystique had expected to have him home at least another day, perhaps two.

Then, when he got up this morning and announced that he **wanted** to go to school . . .

She'd assumed he was delirious, or hallucinating. But no, he insisted, he was fine, and he wanted to get back to school. He'd even done his homework. He **never **did his homework, unless she was standing over him, and even then he only made half an effort.

"All right," she'd admitted finally. "But if you get sick in the middle of class, I'm not letting you go home."

"I won't. I promise."

Maybe **she **was hallucinating. 

Now he burst through her office door in a frenzy. "I didn't do it!" he insisted. "Whatever Lance says, it wasn't me! It was like that when I found it!"

"Todd, sit down," Mystique ordered, her voice like ice.

"'Kay." He took the seat near the door, in case she started yelling and he had to make a quick exit.

"Todd, this is Brenda Ellis. She's just starting today. Since you two will be in the same classes, I thought you could show her around."

Todd's eyes met Brenda's, and the look of panic on his face was replaced by . . . something else.

_Ah hah! _Mystique thought. _So this is why he had to come to school today._

_ _

It was her!

The girl from Saturday night! The new girl at Xavier's!

Her name was Brenda? Didn't seem right. It was too common, was the problem. There was nothing common about her. She should have a name that was pretty and exotic, like Alexis or Cassandra.

"Uh . . ." he said. "Hi."

"Hi," she said. Was she smiling? She was! She was smiling—at **him**! Girls never smiled at him.

"Why don't you two get to class?" Mystique said, her voice somewhere between a suggestion and an order.

"Oh. Yeah. Sure. Class. C'mon, um . . ."

"Brenda."

"Brenda, right. C'mon." He took her by the hand, opened the door, and led her . . .

. . . into the closet.

"Whoops! Sorry! Door's this way."

Mystique buried her face in her hands and sighed.

_It was him!_ Brenda thought. The one who had been watching her from the woods when she arrived Saturday night. _I knew there was someone there!_

Even with her shield down, the intensity of his thoughts was so strong that she couldn't miss it. She tried to concentrate on finding her way to her first class, hoping that they wouldn't end up in another closet.

"So. You're from England," he was prattling on. Even he wasn't sure what he was saying. "My mom was from England."

"Really? Where?"

"I dunno. Someplace with trees. She used to climb trees a lot."

"She must have been fun."

"Yeah. She was." The boy's voice took on a note of sadness. "She died when I was six."

"I'm sorry," Brenda said. "If it's any consolation, at least you knew her. My mother died when I was born."

"Really? Geez."

He seemed so shy, so awkward and sweet, that she found it hard to believe he was one of the "delinquents" she had been warned about.

They found their classroom on the first try. Ms. Darkholme hadn't lied; they did have six out of seven classes together.

Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing . . .

The day flew by, and before she knew it, it was lunchtime.

"I guess this is where we say goodbye," Todd said, carrying his tray close to him, as if someone might try to knock it out of his hands.

"Oh? Why?"

"Well, you know . . . you have your friends, I have mine, that kind of thing. We'll see each other in French class next period."

"You can come sit with us," Brenda offered.

Todd shook his head vigorously. "Nah, I couldn't. I . . . wouldn't be too welcome there, if you know what I mean."

Brenda didn't, not really, but she said, "All right, then. See you in French."

They headed off in opposite directions.

"Brenda! Over here!" Kitty was calling and waving.

Brenda sat down in the empty seat, looking back over her shoulder. He seemed like such a nice boy . . .

"So?" Kitty was saying.

"Huh? What?"

"I **said**, what did you think?"

"Of what?" Brenda finally saw Todd on the other side of the cafeteria, sitting with the three other boys from the photograph. None of them looked particularly threatening, but then she had yet to see their powers in action.

"What are you **looking** at?" Kitty followed her gaze. "Oh. **Them**."

"Those geeks giving you any trouble?" Evan asked. He had three empty milk cartons in front of him, and was working on a fourth.

"No . . ."

"Let me know if they do. I'll show **them**—"

"We're not," Jean said sternly, "supposed to use our powers in public."

"Who said anything about powers? I could kick their butts with my bare hands tied behind my . . . uh . . ."

Brenda laughed a little at the boy's bravado. Imagine someone wanting to protect her!

"Hey, Kurt," Evan said, "you gonna finish that moo juice?"

Kurt was just staring into space, a vacant look on his face.

"Kurt? Yoo hoo!"

"Vhat?"

"You want your milk?"

"No. Go ahead." He went back to staring off into the distance.

"You okay, man?"

"Hmm?"

"You're not getting sick, are you?"

"No."

"Then what's wrong?"

There was a long pause, then: "Nozing. It's not important."

Brenda considered probing him, then decided it wouldn't be wise just yet. She patted his hand. "We're here," she said, "when you're ready to talk."

No response.

_Is this anywhere near normal? _Brenda sent to Jean. _I mean, for him?_

_No, he's usually talking up a storm._

_I wonder if he's worried about Rogue._

_Could be. Could be something else. He'll talk when he's ready._

_ _

_ _

At the Brotherhood's table, Todd was barely paying attention to his friends, or his lunch. He was watching Brenda at her table, wishing he could hear what she was saying.

_Why couldn't she be with us?_ He thought to himself. _Then everything would be okay. We could be together. But no, she's an X-Geek. They're probably telling her all kinds of horrible things about me—_

Something bounced off the back of his head. "Ow!"

"I'm **talking **to you, Toad!" Pietro Maximoff threw another one of the cafeteria's inedible rolls at the other boy. "Try and pay attention!"

"I am! Sorta."

"I **said**, the big boss has called a meeting for tomorrow night."

Lance gave him a dubious look. "How do we even know there **is** a big boss?"

"Cause I've seen him."

"Yeah, well, nobody else has."

"What, you think I made him up?"

"Guys," Todd said weakly. The two had clashed over leadership of the group ever since Pietro had come aboard, and they weren't about to stop now.

"All I'm saying is, none of the rest of us have ever met this so-called Big Boss of yours . . ."

"You will."

"Oh, yeah? When?"

"When the time is right."

"In other words, never."

"Hey, I don't make the rules!"

"But he likes you! He likes you a little **too** much, I think!"

"What's **that** supposed to mean?"

Todd tried to ignore them and watch Brenda again, but someone was blocking his view. He tried leaning around them, then jumping up to see over them.

Then the someone turned around. It was one of the football jerks.

"What are you looking at, Tolensky?" he demanded.

Lance broke away from his fight with Pietro to glare at the idiot. "You starting something, Matthews?"

"Tell your creepy friend to mind his own business!"

"Why don't you mind yours?"

There was some pushing and shoving, but by then Todd had crawled under the table and was heading for the door. He was so intent on getting away that he didn't notice where he was going, and he bumped into someone.

"Going somewhere?" asked Ms. Darkholme.

By the time they got it all sorted out, he was late for his next class. _What will she think of me?_ He thought, too preoccupied to realize that for once he hadn't been beaten up, stuffed in a locker, or had his head stuck down a toilet.

"How nice of you to join us," Miss (excuse _moi, _**Mademoiselle**) Rimbeau snapped. 

"I got a pass." He held it out. It was a bit uncommon for Ms. Darkholme to give him a hall pass, but since he hadn't actually started the fight, she'd cut him a break. She seemed to have something on her mind, anyway."

"_Tres bien_. Sit." Mmslle. Rimbeau waved a hand in the direction of his chair, and continued with the lesson.

As he took his seat, Todd glanced around. Brenda was two rows back, one row over, almost diagonally behind him. When she saw him, she gave a little wave.

"Page fifty-three," she whispered.

"What?"

"That's where we are. Page 53, top of the second column."

"Oh. Thanks." He opened his book, upside-down, realized his mistake and turned it around, and finally found the right page.

At the end of the day, Brenda gathered her books and packed them up. They were walking downtown, to the video store, she had been told. Someone would pick them up there later.

Her locker was at the far end of the hall. She checked the combination, written on a small slip of paper, and worked the lock deftly.

"First time anyone's ever got that on the first try," said a voice next to her.

Brenda looked up at a massive boy in overalls with a blonde Mohawk haircut. Her first thought was _Oh my God, it's Earthquake Hannigan!_ He looked like he'd escaped from that wrestling program she'd been subjected to last night.

Then she recognized him: he was one of Todd's friends. The boys from the photograph, the ones she'd been told to avoid. The Brotherhood.

Well, there was no point in being **rude**, was there?

"I guess I'm just lucky," she said.

"I usually don't bother with the lock," the boy said.

"Don't your things get stolen?" she asked.

"Nah. They know better than to mess with my stuff." His eyes narrowed and his hands clenched into fists, as if daring anyone to come and test him.

"You must be one tough customer, um . . ." She looked up at him, her head cocked, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

"Huh? Oh. Fred. Fred Dukes." He extended a giant hand, which swallowed hers completely.

"Brenda Ellis." He didn't seem so bad either. Was this really the same person who ripped lockers off the walls and slammed trucks around?

"You're new here, huh?"

"Yes. This is my first day. So far, so good."

"Hey," Fred said. "Anyone hassles you, you let me know. I'll take care of 'em."

"Thanks," Brenda said hastily, "but I'm fine. No hassles at all."

She looked over and saw Jean standing there, waiting for her.

Fred, seeing her look past him, turned and saw Jean too, and his expression changed. "Oh," he said. "You're with **them**."

"I'm sorry, I have to go," Brenda said, suddenly feeling the need to get away before trouble started. "Nice meeting you, Fred. I'll see you around."

As they pushed open the double doors leading to the outside, Jean asked Brenda, "What were you doing talking to him?"

"Oh, just . . . talking."

She didn't get it. How could these boys be so dangerous, when they had shown her nothing but kindness? How could she treat them as enemies, when they had approached her as friends?

How could she trust the word of people she had just met over the evidence of her eyes and ears—and mind?


	7. Closer to You

MINDSHADOW (part 2)

Closer to You 

"Bebop, Gundam, or Fushigi?"

Brenda stared at Evan as if he were speaking another language. "Pardon?"

The boy held three tape boxes in his hands. "Bebop," he said, holding up the first, "Gundam," the second, "or Fushigi?"

"I've never heard of any of them," Brenda was forced to admit.

Evan looked at her like she'd just sprouted a second head. "You've never **heard** of them?"

"We don't—didn't—have a telly."

"How can anyone not have a TV? I can understand no cable, but no TV at **all**?" He shook his head. "Even Fred Flintstone had a TV!"

"He didn't live in a convent, did he?"

"Uh . . . no." Evan shuffled the tape boxes around, trying to decide. "You've never seen any anime?"

"Annie Mae who?"

"No, not Annie Mae—_anime_. You know, Japanese animation. Big eyes, giant fighting robots, that kind of thing. You kind of have to see it to believe it. It's really amazing!"

"Is it?" Brenda was intrigued. "Where should I start, then?"

"Probably Fushigi. It's like a fairy tale—sword fights, star-crossed lovers, a kingdom in danger, magic, revenge, the whole works. You gotta watch it from the beginning, though, or it won't make sense."

"All right, then. Fushigi it is. What an odd name."

A few rows back, Toad was picking out a movie when he heard a familiar voice. He peeped over the top of the rack, but couldn't see her. Then she came around into the aisle . . .

. . . and the two nearly ran into each other.

"Excuse me," she said, and then noticed that he looked familiar. More than familiar—she'd practically spent the whole day with him. "Todd?"

"Uh . . . hi."

"What are you doing here?"

"Just getting a movie," he said defensively. "Not spying on you and your friends at all." He grabbed a box off the shelf. "Here's a good one. Sailor Moon."

"It's pink," she pointed out.

"It is?" He looked down at it. "Is that a bad thing?"  
"I'm not sure," Brenda admitted. "I'm new at this. But pink is usually for girls, I do know that. Are you having company?"

"Uh . . . no, just us . . . just us guys." Toad started to blush at what he was thinking at that moment. "We . . . uh . . . I'll just get this one." He put the Sailor Moon tape back and picked up one that looked like it had migrated over from the adult section.

Brenda gasped at the picture on the front, of a half-nude woman growing out of a rosebush.

"Okay, not that one either." He shoved it back. "You know what, I think I'll look around some more." With that, he turned around and sheepishly walked toward the kiddie section.

_Weird_, Brenda thought as she watched him go.

When she got back to the school and hung her jacket up in her closet, she saw the blue robe again and wondered where it had come from. It couldn't belong to any of her fellow students; it was much too small. And it wasn't Professor Xavier's, either. 

She had already asked him about it, and he said it had been there ever since he could remember. "But of course," he said, "I only came back from England seven years ago. The house was open to other family members, and one of them might have left the robe behind. I'll see if I can get hold of them and ask." After two days, he still hadn't had any luck.

She was thinking about the robe when Kitty interrupted her thoughts. "Brenda, are you busy?"

"Not particularly. What's up?"

"Would you like to see the Danger Room now? You still haven't, like, picked a code name or gotten a costume or anything," Kitty said.

"I'm still finding my way around this place, actually. I don't even have a key yet."

"We'll get you one later. Right now we have a session. You'll be working with Scott this time."

"I didn't know he was up for it."

"He says he is. He's been warming up for like an hour already. He said something about testing new equipment today."

"I hope he doesn't push himself too hard before he's ready," Brenda said.

"That makes two of us. He's, like, such a pain in the butt when he's sick!" Kitty sighed. "But then, aren't all guys?"

Brenda couldn't picture Scott being a pain in the butt. "I wouldn't know about that. I lived at a place where no men were allowed."

Kitty blinked. "No men at all?"

"Well, there was the handyman . . . a seventy-year-old grandfather who talked about his Army days. And the ones in town, of course, but no one I really saw on a regular basis . . ."

"That is so weird," Kitty said. She tossed the other girl a pair of pink sweats. "Here, put these on till we get you a regular costume."

"Are these yours?" Brenda asked.

"You can get them back to me whenever. I'll wait for you outside."

_Okay_, Brenda thought to herself. _I wonder what this Danger Room is like?_

Twenty minutes later, she was wishing she'd never asked.

The toughest Marine couldn't have handled this place, never mind someone who'd never had any experience in self-defense. She was praying that this torture would end soon, before what was left of her mind shut down from sheer exhaustion.

"Ready to go again?" Logan asked.

She gave him an incredulous look.

"You did pretty well for a first-timer. But we need to work on your reflexes. We'll begin with a Level 5 hand-to hand sim, just you and me."

"Level 5?" she gasped.

"Don't worry, I'll take you through it nice and easy," Logan told her. "The rest of you kids can go up to the observation room with Rogue." Rogue hadn't felt quite up to suiting up yet, but Xavier had recommended that she sit in on the session anyway, just to get a better grasp of what the new girl could do.

For the next hour Brenda and Logan worked on Brenda's reflexes, trying to help her learn to use her power in connection with her other senses. Towards the end of the session, she was starting to feel she was getting it. Though she still had a lot of work to do, she was coming along very well indeed.

"We'll do an hour together twice a week," Logan told her, "until you're up to speed with the rest of the class."

"How long will that take?"

"Three, maybe four weeks. Less if you practice on your own. Think you can handle that?"

Brenda hesitated only a second before she answered, "Sure I can!"

Toad paced up and down his room even though he desperately needed to sleep. He wasn't sure what was bothering him, but he did know that this Brenda was an incredible girl, and that he needed to be with her no matter what.

Wait . . . that made him sound like some kind of crazy stalker. He didn't want to scare her. The trick was to make her like him without sounding like a total jerk. 

He thought she might like him already—she seemed to, this afternoon at school. Maybe there was hope after all . . . but he had to **know**!

"What are you **doing**?"

Todd jumped to his feet as if he'd been scalded. He turned and saw Fred standing behind him, staring at him as if he'd grown an extra head or something.

"Just thinking! You got a problem with that?"

"Do you have to stomp all over the house to think?" 

Todd couldn't think of any retort other than "Shut up!"

"Will you both go to sleep?" an indignant voice whispered from the other side of the room. "You're driving me up the wall!"

"I'm goin' out," Todd said.

"It's after midnight!"

"So?"

"What are you doing in my bathroom?" Blob demanded.

"It's my bathroom too, you know!" Lance said. "You guys just keep the noise down, all right? Some people are trying to sleep!"

"Well, I'm going out," Todd said, "so don't worry about me." He stormed out of the room, past Blob, and out of the house.

Once outside . . . he didn't know where to go.

_Great. My big dramatic exit, and now I don't know what to do next._

A thought occurred to him. Maybe he could go and see Brenda! She might still be up.

But it was so far away! At least eight or ten blocks! How was he going to get there on his own?

Steal a car? No, he might get caught. Besides, Mystique would hear him and come after him. Or send someone else after him.

He was crossing the lawn of the house next door when he saw it. The kid who lived there—Joey or Jimmy or Jerry or something—had left his scooter on the lawn again. 

Perfect.

Todd hopped on, and zoomed off into the night. _Don't worry, Johnny . . . Jackie . . . whatever your name is! I'll bring it back! I just have to see this girl!_

Before he was off the block, it started to rain.

Dripping wet, and starting to sneeze, he finally reached the mansion where Brenda lived. He'd ditched the scooter a few blocks back, after he'd fallen off it three times because he couldn't get any traction on the wet pavement. It wasn't just raining; it was **pouring**. Buckets.

But he was here. At last. At her house. Now if he could just find a way in—

Front door. No good. They probably had all sorts of alarms. Same with the back door.

He looked around for any open windows he could use to climb inside. _I wonder which one's hers?_

Couldn't hurt to try, could it?

He picked up a handful of gravel off the ground and tossed it up at the window.

It missed by a mile.

Okay. Try again, harder.

This time, a few pieces hit the window and bounced off with a _bonk!_

He waited. When no one came, he tried again.

_BONK!_

The curtains fluttered.

_Yes! Yes!_

The window went up—

_YES!_

"Who's there?" Rogue called down.

_Aw, crud!_ He sneezed again. _That's not her! Should I try another window?_

"Toad, is that you?"

He looked up at her. She almost looked pretty without that God-awful makeup.

"Uh," he called nervously, "is Brenda home?"

"I cannot believe you would do something so foolish!"

Rogue had let him in, and she and Brenda were toweling him off while Kitty stood guard in case anyone came in the room.

"I thought you'd be glad I came to—aaaah chooooo!—see you!"

Brenda stood over him, shaking her head. "You have to get out of those wet clothes."

Todd looked up at her in alarm.

"Not here! In the bathroom! I'll find something for you to wear."

"Okay." He went into the bathroom, and Rogue glared at Brenda.

"What're we gonna **do** with him?"

"I don't know! But he can't go out in the rain again!"

"Maybe it'll, like, stop soon," Kitty said.

"Doubt it," said Rogue. "It's supposed to keep up till tomorrow morning."

"Technically, it is tomorrow morning," Brenda pointed out. She was trying to find something for Todd to wear that didn't look too girly. Then she thought of the perfect thing. "Wait here, I'll be right back," she said.

She went to her room and dug through her drawers until she found Nick's old football jersey. It might be a little big, but he could sleep in it. And tomorrow his clothes would be dry, and he could go home.

She knocked on the closed bathroom door. "Todd?" she called softly. "Are you in there?"

"Yeah."

"Can you open the door? I found something for you to wear."

"I'm kinda undressed at the moment."

"Just open the door a crack, and I'll slip it through."

The door opened just enough for her to see a small sliver of light. She passed the jersey through the crack. Then the door closed.

"You can put your clothes in the laundry chute in the hall," she said. "I'll make sure they're dry for you tomorrow."

The door burst open. "**Tomorrow?**"

"Well, you can't go out in the rain again, and there's no one to drive you."

"I could call a cab."

"Do you have any money?"

"Uh . . ." There was a jingling sound. "Forty-seven cents?"

"That won't get you very far."

"Look, I can't stay here! I have to get home before—" He sneezed three times in a row, then wiped his nose with a piece of toilet paper.

"We need to get you warm and dry," Brenda said, taking him back to her room. "You can sleep in here tonight. I'll wake you tomorrow and we'll have someone take you home then."

Todd looked around. "In your room?"

"You don't mind the floor, do you?" She went to the hall closet and got a few blankets and a pillow.

"Uh . . . no. No, I don't mind." A horrible thought occurred to him. "What if someone finds me in here?"

"No one will find you. The bed checks have already been done an hour ago. As long as we don't make a lot of noise, no one will come. Here." She wrapped a blanket around him, then started making up a bed for him on the floor.

Todd picked up a book that was on the bedside table. "_The Fifth Elephant_? What's that?"

"Oh. It's . . . Pratchett."

"What's a Pratchett?"

"It's not what, it's who. Terry Pratchett. He wrote a series of books set in a place called Discworld."

"Sounds weird." He flipped through it. "What's it about?"

Brenda shook her head. "They're hard to explain. You'd have to read it to understand."

"You got a lot of these?"

"Pretty much all of them," she nodded. "There's supposed to be a new one coming out soon, I think. Here, if you're going to read them, begin at the beginning." She went to her shelf and found _The Colour of Magic._

Todd took it from her and read the back cover. "Wizards? Like Harry Potter?"

"Sort of. You've read Harry Potter?"

"Just the first book so far. I liked it a lot."

"I'm glad. You'll like this one, too." She smoothed out the makeshift bed she had made. "There you go. Off to sleep with you."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, before someone sees the light on and comes to find out why." She helped him down onto the floor and pulled the top blanket over him. "Good night."

"Night."

Brenda climbed into her own bed and turned out the light. It had been a very long day—and a strange one at that.

After a few minutes, she noticed an odd sound coming from the floor. "Todd," she called in a stage whisper, "are you all right?"

Todd just snored in her ear.

She nudged him with her foot.

'What? Huh?" he said, looking up at her.

"You were snoring."

"No way! I don't snore! Maybe it's this stupid . . . " He fell asleep and began snoring again.

Brenda kicked him again.

"Ow!"

"Stop it! Someone will hear you!"

"**Me**? You're the one kicking me in the side!"

"Because you won't stop snoring!"

"I am **not**!" Todd insisted.

There was a sound from the other side of the door, like a footstep. They looked at each other, then at the door, but it never opened.

"Just go to sleep," Brenda whispered.

"I can't! You keep kicking me!"

"Because you're snoring!"

"I don't snore!"

"You **do**—" This was getting them nowhere. She went and got the box of tissues, and handed it to him.

"Thanks." He blew his nose, then dropped the used tissue on the floor.

Brenda wrinkled her nose. "Must you be so uncouth?" Holding the wad of used tissue between two outstretched fingers, she threw it in the waste basket.

"Sorry. I'm too tired to go all the way over there."

"I guess it **is** rather late. All right, then, go to—"

He was already asleep before she could finish the sentence. Fortunately, he wasn't snoring anymore.

She went back to sleep herself, and slept soundly till morning. (Well, later morning, anyway.)

Brenda had never needed an alarm clock to wake her up. This was owing to a lifetime of bells going off at 5:30, for morning prayers. Even though she had been up at one in the morning dealing with their unexpected visitor—

_Oh dear. How am I going to get him out?_

There was a tap on the door. "Brenda?" It was Rogue.

Brenda opened the door. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Arranging Lover-boy's ride home," she said, nodding toward the heap of blankets on the floor. He'd started snoring again sometime during the night. "Lance is gonna pick him up at the end of the street in 20 minutes. His clothes done yet?"

"They should be. You wake him up while I go check."

"Nah, I'll go get them. There any more of that tea of yours?"

"I think so."

When she was gone, Brenda poked gently at the blankets. _It's just me,_ she sent. _Don't scream or yell or anything. I need you to wake up now, Toddy._

The pile stirred. Todd's head poked out one end. "Whuh timezit?"

"Almost six. Your ride will be at the end of the street in twenty minutes. Rogue's getting your clothes."

"Oh . . . okay." He shrugged the blankets off, stood up, and stretched. The jersey pulled up enough for Brenda to see a pretty impressive set of abs. _Who knew he was so . . . built?_

"Whatcha staring at?"

"Oh . . . nothing."

Rogue came in with the clothes. "All done. I put the kettle on, too. For the tea."

"Uh . . ." Todd said. "Should I go in the bathroom?"

"No!" Brenda almost screamed. "Someone might find you! We'll just turn our backs for a moment."

"Sure, but no peeking."

"Like we'd want to look at your scrawny body," Rogue drawled.

The girls turned around, folding up the blankets and putting them in a neat pile. Then Todd said, "All done."

"Good," said Rogue. "Now let's get you outta here. I think we should use the back door—"

"Nah." Todd shook his head. "I'll go out the way I came."

He went to the window, which had been shut again to keep the rain out, and lifted it up.

"But you **can't**!" said Brenda. "It's two floors up!"

"I'll make it." He got ready to jump.

"Wait!" Brenda held out _The Colour of Magic_. "Don't forget this!"

"Oh, right." He shoved it in his back pocket. "Um, thanks for letting me stay here and all."

"You're welcome. Now go before you miss your ride." Brenda would have let him stay a bit longer, perhaps till the tea was ready, but she could sense someone coming.

Todd pushed off the windowsill, making a perfect leap to the ground far below. He looked up and waved to her one last time before hurrying on his way.

Just in time, too—the door opened ever so slightly.

"Your water's boiling." It was Logan. He was carrying something in his arms.

"Oh!" Brenda turned from the window. "I was just . . . letting a little fresh air in. It's so nice after it rains."

"You're up early, Rogue."

The girl blinked, and Brenda stepped in. "We were going to get in some of that extra training you were talking about. Remember, last night?"

"Oh." He nodded. "Well, then, you'll need this." He put what he was carrying down on her bed.

It was a long, flat box, and inside was . . .

"Oh, it's beautiful!" Brenda held it up. It was a costume, like Jean's but with gray instead of green, and filmy bits on the sleeves. "I can't wait to try it on!"

"Welcome to the team."


	8. Repercussions

MINDSHADOW (part 2)

Repercussions 

Mystique was fuming as she stood in the doorway and waited for Toad to come home. She was really ticked off at him for going out again at night. Did he think she had nothing better to do than chase around after him?

She sneezed. Oh, great; she was getting his cold, too. That was all she needed right now. _I'm going to kill him,_ she thought.

She heard the sound of Lance's little junk heap coming up the street. BOOM! BANG! CRUNCH! It was clearly on the verge of falling apart, but it was the best she could get for him for the pittance she got from Bayville High. It would be nice if Magneto gave her some cash now and then. The food bills alone were in triple digits, and not low numbers, either. 

The car pulled noisily into the driveway just in time for Mystique to see one of its doors fall off.

"Oops," Toad said. "Sorry about that, Lance."  
"Don't worry," the older boy said bitterly. "I'll just tape it back on like I did the last four times."

"GET. IN. THE. HOUSE!" Mystique screamed at them both. What little self-control she had had vanished. And darn it, she sneezed again. "AAAAGH!"

"You okay, Mystie?" Toad asked.

"Don't call me Mystie, you little slime-beast! Get in the house before I destroy you!"

Toad meekly slithered past her into the house.

"You too, Alvers! NOW!" Her voice broke on the last word. Now she couldn't even yell at them any more! She hated being sick worse than anything in the world. Who'd watch the boys while she was laid up? Who'd keep Lance and Pietro from getting into their stupid fights? Not to mention keep Toad from sneaking out again to see that little blond—

"I'm sorry, I'll never sneak out again, please don't kill me," Toad whimpered, cringing before her like a dog that's been kicked. 

"Shut up," she whispered. Her mood, which had started out bad, had gotten worse and worse. "You are grounded until further notice."

"**What?** But I **said**—"

"And I said shut up!"

"What's wrong with your voice?" Lance asked.

"Nothing!" Mystique croaked. _No, no, NO! I will NOT be sick, I WILL NOT be sick! _"Go get ready for school." She went into her room and slammed the door. Then she opened it, and slammed it again.

Blob had come out of his room to see what all the shouting was about. "What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know. She's in one of her moods," Lance sighed.

"She only has two," said Toad. "Bad and worse."

Mystique opened the door again. She tried to yell at them, but could barely manage a squeak. The door slammed shut again, and a moment later, a piece of paper slid through the crack.

On it was written: _If I hear one more word out of you idiots, you are all dead!_

The boys looked at each other nervously. Even without a voice, Mystique could still scare the you-know-what out of them. They went to their respective rooms to get ready for school.

Todd was still thinking about his night with Brenda. He'd never been so close to a girl before, and he kinda liked it. She wasn't just pretty; she was pretty, and nice, and smart, and . . .

He went to sit down and felt something poking him in the back.

It was, of course, the book Brenda had lent him. He looked at the cover, with its myriad fantastic creatures milling about, and opened it up.

The next thing he knew, someone was shaking him.

"What? What?! Cut it out!" He looked up. Lance was standing over him with a worried look on his face.

"Come on, Todd, it's 7:30 already!"

**"What?" **He jumped up and almost hit the ceiling.

"What the heck are you doing?"

"Reading." Todd folded down the corner of the page he was on. He noticed that he had gotten through about a third of the book already. It was so good, he just couldn't put it down.

"Go get your stuff," Lance ordered him. "We have to leave now."

"Okay." Todd put the book down on the coffee table and went to his room to grab his school bag. 

When he came back, Pietro was flipping through the book. "Whatisthis? Isthisyours?"

"Hey, be careful with that!" Todd shouted. "Somebody lent it to me."

"Don'tworryI'malmostdone."

"Will you talk like a normal human?" Lance grumbled. "I can't understand a word you're saying!"

"Ahgomovesomerocks."

Todd watched the two of them with amusement. Both of them had learned how to push each other's buttons, and watching them go at it was almost better than Jerry Springer . . .

Mystique picked that moment to intervene. "You're going to be late for school!" she snapped at them. Her voice almost sounded back to normal now. She must have taken something. "Stop this nonsense and get in the car!"

Lance and Pietro sighed and broke off the ongoing battle—for now. "I'll get you for this later, Pietro," Lance muttered under his breath.

"Not if I get you first," Pietro shot back.

Mystique glared at both of them. "We're leaving now, with or without you!"

They got in the car. Todd tucked _The Colour of Magic_ into his school bag while Mystique wasn't looking. Maybe he'd finish it at lunchtime. Then he could give it back to Brenda . . .

Oh, crud! He couldn't. He was supposed to be grounded. How could he see her again if he was grounded?

He thought about it all the way to school. Never once did it enter his mind not to see her again. That wasn't an option any more.

He sang along with the car radio, something he never did. Everyone looked at him funny, but they didn't say anything. They weren't sure whether or not this was a good thing.

"I want to talk to you."

Brenda flinched at the angry tone in Logan's voice. She couldn't think of what she'd done to make him so mad . . .

Yes, she could.

But what was she supposed to do, leave the poor boy out in the rain?

**"Now,"** Logan growled, startling the girls, who were coming out of the locker room right behind Brenda. At least he'd had the decency to wait until she changed.

Rogue and Kitty gave her a worried glance—they knew what this was all about—but Jean looked puzzled.

_I'll explain later,_ Brenda sent. _Go on to breakfast. I'll catch up with you._

That seemed to satisfy the older girl, who ran ahead down the hall the way Kitty and Rogue had gone.

Brenda followed Logan into a little alcove near the elevator.

"You were warned," Logan began, "to stay away from certain people."

Brenda just nodded. Best to save the arguments for later.

"But one of them was in your room this morning."

Another nod.

"Care to explain why?"

Brenda took a deep breath and placed all her thoughts in a row, as Sister Maria was fond of saying. "He showed up after midnight. I didn't invite him. But it was pouring rain, and he was soaked, and I couldn't leave him out there. He slept on the floor, and he was gone first thing in the morning."

Logan sighed. "You do know that boys aren't allowed in girls' bedrooms after 10 PM?

"This was an emergency!"

"A what?"

"If I'd left him outside in the rain, he might have gotten really sick. He could have died of pneumonia . . ."

"Still, we have rules for a reason. If I make an exception for you, I have to do one for everyone, and then we have no more rules. You understand?"

Brenda nodded. "OK. I just don't understand why we have to choose sides. Why there have to **be** sides."

"Cause that's the way Magneto wants it."

"What's a Magneto?" Brenda asked.

"Nobody told you about Magneto?"

"I don't think so."

Logan sighed. "He believes that mutants should rule the Earth. That 'our kind' shouldn't have to bow down to the 'less fortunate' humans."

"Bit of a snob, is he?" Brenda was trying to lighten the mood, but Logan was deadly serious.

"Bit of a psycho's more like it. There are rumors that he has some kind of ultimate weapon that can level an entire city. I don't know if that's true, but I don't want to find out the hard way, if you know what I mean."

Brenda's eyes went wide at the thought of a weapon that could completely wipe out a whole city.

"And this is the man who controls the Brotherhood. The one who tells your little friend what to do."

"That doesn't sound like the Todd I know," she pointed out. " He's so sweet and shy."

"It's just an act to get close to you so he can take us by surprise . . . trust me, he's not a nice guy in the least."

Brenda's heart sank. How could it be? The Todd she'd met seemed like such a nice boy. Had it really all been an act?

Who could she trust? Other than Professor Xavier, she didn't know who was telling the truth and who was deceiving her. Or was it all lies?

Before Logan could say any more, Brenda turned away and headed to breakfast.


	9. Surprises

Surprises 

Kurt Wagner was waiting for Brenda outside the dining room. "I can't vait to zee her face vhen I tell her!"

Presently she came charging up the hall, looking as though she'd seen a ghost. "Brenda? Are you okay?"

"What? Oh . . . hi, Kurt."

"Vhat's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," she said.

"I came to tell you good news! I talked to my friend Forge, and he said he could come help you find out who bought zat plane ticket for you." When he got no answer, he said, "Zat's vhat you vanted, isn't it? To find out who sent you here?"

"What? Oh . . . er, good. When?"

"Right after school," Kurt said. "You interested?"

Brenda nodded as the words sank in. Kurt sensed a certain reluctance that he couldn't understand. "Vhat is wrong?"

"I can't help wondering if . . . everything is quite what it seems to be. I'm just so confused about everything. What if I end up being related to someone really horrible? What if they're lovely, but they just don't want me?"

"Ach, Brenda, you vorry too much," Kurt told her, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Everyzing vill be all right."

"You WHAT?"

All four Brotherhood boys stared at Mystique in shock. They couldn't believe what she had just told them.

"It's not a big deal," she said. "I just have to go into the hospital for a few days. While I'm gone, I've arranged for someone to stay here and keep an eye on you."

"We don't need a babysitter!" Lance snapped. "We can take care of ourselves!"

"Yeah!" Pietro shouted. It was the first time the two of them had agreed on anything in days.

"No discussion," Mystique said. "He should be here soon. I'll be getting a full report from him on your behavior, so don't disappoint me."

There was the sound of a car horn from outside. "That's my cab. Be good, I'll see you soon." She picked up her suitcase and started for the door.

Toad had been quiet during her little speech, but he was very worried for her. He still remembered the day his mom had gone into the hospital—"just for a few tests"—and had never come home.

Suddenly, impulsively, he ran to catch up with Mystique. He jumped up and threw his arms around her neck. "I love you," he said, burying his face in her shoulder.

"Yes, that's nice," Mystique said, trying to pry him loose, "but I have to go now."

"No! Don't go!"

The others were just standing there staring at him.

"I have to leave!" She tried again to remove Toad from around her neck. "Let go!"

"No, don't leave me! Don't leave me, Mommy!"

_Did he just call me Mommy?_

Finally Mystique pulled him off and shoved him to the floor. "Stop whining, you little dolt! I'm not dying! And if you ever call me Mommy again, you'll be the one in the hospital!" She rushed out to the cab before it left without her.

Todd ran after her, but couldn't catch up. Shoulders slumped, he trudged back to the house.

He stopped dead in the doorway.

"I called her **Mommy**?"

"Okay, let's start with the ticket itself and backtrack from there," Scott suggested.

The boy at the keyboard looked up and asked, "What's the flight number?"

"Hang on, I'll check." Brenda ran to her room and came back wth a pair of ticket stubs. "Here we are. British Airways flight 854, seat number 68."

Forge entered the numbers into the computer so fast that his fingers were a blur.

"Wow," Brenda said. "You're really good at that."

"Thanks. I'm working on a direct neural interface for my home unit. Do you think I should go with a headband or a helmet?" His eyes never left the screen as he talked.

"Headband, I think."

"I'll start working on designs when I get home. Ah! Found it. The ticket was bought with a credit card; let me see if I can trace that." He tapped the keys again and found the billing information. "Here we are. Mrs. Martha Ellis, 4 Penny Lane, Ruttletop . . ."

Brenda gasped as she remembered where she'd heard that name. It was her mother's mother, whom she'd never met.

Or **had** she?

"Is there a photograph?" she asked.

"I can probably find one." Tap tap tappity tap. "I think this is it." A small black-and-white photo popped up on the screen. It was a few years out of date, but Brenda recognized the woman anyway.

_No wonder she was looking at me like that,_ Brenda thought, remembering that day in the book shop. _She must have known who I was all along._

"There's an e-mail address here," Forge said. "Want to talk to her?"

"I say go for it," said Scott. "What have you got to lose?"

What, indeed? "All right, I will." Brenda took over in the computer chair.

"If you want, I'll show you how to set up a chat room so you can actually talk to her in real time."

"Wait, wait! One thing at a time!" This all seemed too good to be true. It was coming together like a fairy tale. _So now I find my long-lost grandmother and we live happily ever after? It can't be. Things don't happen like this in real life._

"When's our babysitter supposed to show up?" Toad asked. He was sitting by the window, looking out every few seconds or so.

"I dunno," Fred said, "but I hope he brings us dinner."

"Hey, I thought we were having a meeting tonight," Lance said as he checked his watch for the hundredth time.

Pietro was flipping TV channels so fast they were little more than static. "The boss called it off after I told him about Mystique. He wanted to meet with the **whole** team."

"Sure he did," Lance smirked. "Right after he and Santa Claus have their nails done, right?"

Todd wasn't listening to them. He kept staring out the window, wondering what Brenda was doing now. Funny how he'd only met her a few days ago, and now she was all he could think about.

"What's with you?" asked Pietro.

"Huh?"

"I said, what's with you? You've been acting funny all week. And it's only Tuesday."

"Tuesday," Todd sighed. 

"Did you get brain damage or something?" Pietro asked. "From when you were sick?"

"What?"

"I've heard that sometimes viruses can cause brain damage."

"Oh, c'mon, I had a cold!"

"That's what **you** think," Pietro said, and would say no more.

_And he thinks **I'm** acting weird, _Todd thought. He heard the sound of a motor in the driveway. Looking out the window, he saw a huge man on a motorcycle pull up and park in front of the house.

"Jeez, man," Fred said, "**that's** our sitter?"

"I didn't know Mystique hung out with bikers, yo."

"Just be glad she didn't send some humongous women's prison guard or something," Lance said. "Maybe this guy will get drunk and pass out, and we can sneak out." 

The stranger came up the walk, onto the porch, and rang the doorbell. 

The boys looked at each other.

"Get the door."

"No, **you ** get it!"

"I'm not getting it! Besides, you're closer!"

"You're closer, dimwit!"

"Fine! I'll get it!" Lance stormed to the door and yanked it open, just as the sitter was removing his helmet.

_Boy, that guy's scary-looking. He's supposed to watch us? Who's watching him?_

"Is Ms. Darkholme here?"

"Nah, she left already."

"She did? I thought she'd wait till I got here. Did she leave any instructions?"

"Uh . . ." The boys stared at one another. 

"Never mind, I see them." There was a folded piece of paper on top of the desk. The big man opened it up and squinted at it. "I can't make heads or tails of this! That woman's handwriting is terrible! I better talk to her before she goes into surgery . . ."

"Wait a minute! **What **surgery?" Lance demanded.

"She didn't tell you?" The sitter looked almost amused.

"Tell us **what**?" Toad asked.

"I can't believe she didn't tell you."

"You better tell us!" Fred grabbed the stranger by the front of his coat, but the man twisted out of his grasp.

"Calm down, Junior. She's just having her tonsils out."

All four boys stared at him, their jaws scraping the floor. 

The sitter flopped down in the easy chair. "You boys want to order some food, I'll pay for it."

Now that he was recovering from the shock, Todd felt angry at Mystique for lying to them. "Why didn't she **tell** us?"

"Maybe she was just embarrassed. You can take it up with her when she comes home, day after tomorrow."

"Day after tomorrow?" They'd be stuck with this guy for two days?

"That's what she told me. I don't suppose there's anything to drink around here?"

Brenda kept checking her e-mail for word from her grandmother. She looked through every folder, in case it wound up in the Trash pile by mistake, but it wasn't in any of them.

She was about to send a message to the e-mail help desk to see if there was a problem with her account when she looked up and saw Storm beside her.

"There's a telephone call for you," she said. "I think it's your grandmother."

"Is it?" Brenda could hardly contain her excitement.

"You can take it in my study," said Professor Xavier. "That will give you a little privacy."

"Thank you!" She didn't breathe again till she picked up the phone. Gasping for air, she flopped down in a chair on the far side of the desk. "Yes? Hello?"

"I wondered how long it would take you to suss it out," a warm feminine voice said.


	10. Connections

Connections 

Brenda couldn't believe she was finally talking to her grandmother, a grandmother that up until today she'd never known she had. "Why didn't you e-mail me?" she asked.

"I thought it would be more personal to speak to you directly. That is all right, isn't it, dear?"

"Yes, of course. But this call must be costing you a fortune—"

"Don't worry about it. I'm not rich, but I don't need to clip coupons, either. Besides, what's a few pounds among family?"

_Family _. . . up until now, the Sisters had been her family. Did she have other relatives she didn't know about?

"You must have a million questions. Go ahead, I'll do my best."

Where to begin? "Why didn't you just tell me who you were, that day at the shop? Did you think I wouldn't want your money?"

"The thought did cross my mind. It's what your mother would have said. I didn't want to risk either of us making a scene."

"You two didn't get on, then?"

"Not very well, I'm afraid. After her father died, Margaret became very moody and quiet. We hardly ever spoke anymore. Then she started going with a bad crowd . . . I thought she'd get over it, but she never did. Not before . . . ."

"Before she died, you mean."

"Yes. I thought there would be time. You always think there will be time . . . ." There was a pause as the older woman pulled herself together. 

"What was she like?" Brenda asked. "Before she changed."

"Oh, she was always a handful, but it was even worse after she got her powers—"

"Powers? My mother was . . . like me?" Brenda was surprised to hear that.

"Yes, she was a telepath. Which made it even harder to deal with her. I tried to get her some help, but she wouldn't have it. Then she left, and . . ."

They talked for close to two hours. Brenda, who had known almost nothing of her mother growing up, was suddenly seeing her as a real person, with real problems, not unlike herself. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't even realize that there had been nothing but silence on the other end of the phone for almost three minutes now.

"Gran? Gran, are you there?"

Then suddenly there was a thud.

"Oh, God . . ." Brenda hung up and dialed the emergency number, hoping that her worst fears weren't true. After being reassured by the emergency services personnel that they would do all they could, she hung up and just sat there, staring at the phone. Had she found her grandmother only to lose her again?

At some point she fell asleep, waiting next to the phone. Someone picked her up and put her in her own bed, then took her place by the phone.

When Brenda woke up, she wasn't sure where she was at first. Then she recognized her own things, and that little blue robe in the closet caught her eye again. Where was the owner of that robe now?

She looked over and saw a note on her bedside table:

            Brenda,

            Got a call from the hospital a few hours ago. Your grandma's fine, she just had a bit of a fainting spell. She'll be home by tomorrow, and she'll call you then.

            Scott

Brenda heaved a sigh of relief at that. See? Nothing to worry about.

"Can we go out tonight?" Todd asked the sitter.

"Define 'we'," the sitter demanded.

"Uh . . . us guys . . . you, if you want. You should get out more."

"You're grounded, remember?" the man growled.

"For how long?" Todd asked, hoping it would only be a few days or so.

"Says here you're in lockdown till she gets back. Then she'll make the decision, based on my report. You sneak out, I'll have to tell her. And don't think that I won't know if you do. I know all the tricks."

Todd gulped. "O-okay."

The guy's name, they had found out, was Mr. Creed. No first name, at least not one that he had given them. He slept on the couch, and mostly sat in the chair in front of the TV, but every time one of them made a move, he knew. It was like the guy had eyes in the back of his head or something.

"The rest of us can go out, right?" Lance asked.

"So long as you don't get into any trouble." He went back to his movie, which seemed to be about a girl running around in an old house, losing her top.

"Tough luck, Toddy," Pietro said. "We'll bring you back a slushie or something."

"Thanks," Todd said, without much enthusiasm. This being grounded thing really stunk. Why did Mystique have to do this to him **now**?

He hoped wherever she was, she was in the worst pain of her life. As long as she didn't die. She had gone off and left him all alone with this big creepy guy, and he couldn't stand it any more.

"I gotta get out of here, yo!" He started for the door, but suddenly there was this huge hairy form blocking his way.

"No, you don't!" the goon said.

"But I can't stay here!" Todd complained. "I'm bored and I'm all alone and it's not right that I should be punished when Mystique ain't even here . . ."

"Look, all I know is she told me to keep an eye on you kids. That means not letting you sneak out behind my back. Now get back to your room befor I beat you to a bloody pulp, you little punk!"

Todd slunk away in mortal fear of this monster, praying that Mystique would make a miraculous recovery and be home soon.


	11. Meeting Friends

(A/N: Sorry this is so late in coming. I accidentally deleted it, and had to recreate it from scratch. Which is not an easy job, let me tell you. I just hope I get this finished in my lifetime. Well, read and enjoy!)

Meeting Friends 

Brenda decided to check out the book shop on her own to see if they had any new Pratchett. Maybe she could pick up one or two of the early books for Todd.

She went to the counter and asked, "Do you have any Terry Pratchett?"

"That would be under 'P'," the clerk said, and when she heard those words, Brenda did a double-take.

"Nick!" She was overjoyed to see him after all this time. "I thought you were away at school!"

"I am. I'm going to school here now. I'm taking a film course, so I can learn to write screenplays." 

"You never told me that—" she started to say, then realized that he had probably changed schools to be near her. Bless his heart.

"I don't wanna go in some stupid book store!" Fred protested.

"Tough. I have to get something for school." Lance pushed open the door and they went inside.

Pietro looked around and saw Brenda standing by the counter, talking to some guy. An idea formed itself inside his brain, one which would surely get them into trouble, but was infinitely better than another night of whiny Toad complaining about being grounded. "Hey guys!"

Lance and Fred turned and looked at him.

"C'mere, Ihavetotellyousomething."

"Take a Ritalin or something, Speedy," Lance said.

"JUST COME HERE!" Pietro yelled at them. So they came.

"OK, Pietro, what is it?"

Taking a deep breath, the speed demon pointed over to Brenda. "Let's bring home a surprise for the Toad-man."

"What are you talking about?" Fred asked. "What surprise?"

"Her."

Lance and Fred both looked at Pietro like he was insane. "We can't kidnap people!" Lance insisted.

"Who said anything about kidnapping? We'll ask her to come with us. If she says no, it's no."

"Fine. Let's go get her," Lance said, starting off in Brenda's direction.

Pietro followed at a discreet distance, waiting for the right moment to introduce himself to Brenda's . . . friend? He hoped the guy wasn't anything closer; it would absolutely kill the Toad. Poor guy was really hung up on this chick.

Finally there was a break in the conversation, and Pietro approached her. "Hey, Brenda."

"Hello, Pietro. Boys," she nodded to Lance and Fred, who were pretending to look at the new hardcovers. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Yeah, same here. Uh, are you busy tonight?"

Brenda pondered this a moment. "Not especially. Why?"

"Well, canyoucometoourplace?" Pietro asked, all in one breath.

"What about Ms. Darkholme? I don't think she likes me."

"She's in the hospital," Lance told her. "She's having . . . uh, minor surgery."

"Oh dear. I hope she's all right."

"Oh, sure. She'll be home tomorrow night. So now's our only chance to get you to visit Todd this week." Pietro was maneuvering them toward the door as they spoke. "Let's go already!"

Brenda wasn't sure what to do. Finally, however, Nick suggested that she make a call home. "Tell them you'll be helping out here the rest of the night, and they can pick you up at nine-thirty. So you'll have to be back here by nine at the latest."

"Okay. Can we do that?" she asked.

"Yeah, I guess so," Lance mumbled.

And so an arrangement was made. The shape of things to come had begun to take form, and nothing would ever  be the same again.

Mystique was supposed to be resting after her surgery, but part of her knew that she needed to go home. Something was wrong—she wasn't sure what, but she knew somehow that she was needed.

She started to pack up her things when a doctor came and said, "Where do you think you're going?"

She still couldn't speak, so she wrote on a handy note pad, I HAVE TO GO HOME. MY KIDS NEED ME.

"You can go home tomorrow. You need to rest right now."

IF I REST, THEY'LL DESTROY MY HOUSE!

"They can't be that bad . . ."

BELIEVE ME, THEY ARE.

"Is there someone you can call?"

Mystique looked at him as if he were insane. AND HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO TALK TO THEM?

"I can have someone call for you. Or you can borrow my laptop and send an e-mail."

I'D RATHER JUST GO HOME.

"You're too sick."

IT'S AN EMERGENCY. I'LL SIGN WHATEVER YOU WANT, JUST LET ME GO!

"I can't do that. Why don't you give me the number, and I'll call for you?"

WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THEY'LL TELL YOU THE TRUTH?

"Tell you what. I get off in about 20 minutes. If you get back in bed right now, I'll swing by and make sure everything's okay. Do we have a deal?"

She thought about it. OKAY. YOU WIN.

Back at the Brotherhood house, the plan was underway. Pietro would sneak Brenda in while Lance and Fred distracted Mr. Creed. Everyone had their fingers crossed.

"Go," Lance whispered. As soon as Pietro and Brenda were halfway up the stairs, he shouted, "Come on, Blob!"

"Why'd you make me go out?" Fred complained, in a similarly loud voice.

"Oh, so this is **my** fault? If **you** hadn't eaten the last of the pizza, we wouldn't have had to **go** out!"

There was a creak as Mr. Creed got up from his chair.

"You could have gotten take—" Suddenly there was a big, hairy hand around his throat.

"You wanna keep the noise down? I'm watching wrestling!"

Lance looked up and saw Pietro give the "all clear" signal. "Come on, Fred."

"Aw, but I wanna watch—"

"I'll show you where Mystique keeps her cookie stash," Lance whispered.

"I'm coming."

While the mock argument went on, Pietro snuck Brenda into Toad's room. "You two have fun!" he whispered, before disappearing back downstairs in a blaze of speed.

The two of them stood there looking at each other for what seemed like forever. Finally they both laughed nervously.

"I never had a girl in my room before," Todd said. He quietly closed the door so that they wouldn't be overheard.

"I've never even **thought **of being in a boy's room before," Brenda confessed. "I live—lived—with a group of nuns all my life. I've never even seen a boy's room before."

"So I'm your first, huh?" he grinned.

"What shall we do?" Brenda asked. She looked around the room for some ideas, but there wasn't much there. She saw _The Colour of Magic _lying on a shelf and picked it up.

"Yeah, I meant to return that to you . . ."

"Did you finish it?"

"Most of it. Pietro borrowed it, and then Lance looked through it—I don't think he likes it though, he reads car magazines—but I'm near the end . . ."

"Really?"

"I really like it, too. It's . . . different. Like this." He flipped through until he came to a relevant passage, and held the book out to her. 

Brenda began to read.

"_After the first Age of Magic the disposal of grimoires began to become a severe problem on the Discworld. A spell is still a spell even when imprisoned temporarily in parchment and ink. It has potency. This is not a problem while the book's owner still lives, but on his death the spell book becomes a source of uncontrolled power that cannot easily be defused._

_"In short, spell books leak magic."*_

She stopped and looked up at him. "You're right, it is interesting."

"Go on," Todd urged her. "I like the way you read."

"Do you?"

"Yeah," he said, feeling shivery all over. There was a strange glowy feeling in the pit of his stomach that he'd never had before. "Could you read it to me?"

"Of course I could. Where would you like me to start?"

"Go back to the beginning. I want to hear all that cosmic stuff in your voice. Can you make a little **KKRRKK** noise for the footnotes?"

"I suppose." She flipped back to the beginning, and began.

By the time she got to the end of Part I, Todd felt as if he'd found a missing piece of his soul, that up until then, he hadn't even known was lost. "Don't stop, please. Read some more."

"I can't. It's half past nine. I have to go." Brenda marked her place and put the book aside.

"It can't be time already!" Todd moaned. "Stay a little while longer, huh?"

Brenda looked at him regretfully. "I wish I could, but if I stay, they'll miss me at home."

"You could stay and say you were at a friend's house."

"They'd want to know who."

Todd sighed. "I get it. You're ashamed of me."

"No . . . I'm worried **for** you. I don't want you getting in trouble because of me."  She sighed. "At the Institute, they don't have a high opinion of you and your friends . . . I've been warned to stay away from you."

"Yeah . . . me and Fuzzy didn't exactly hit it off."

"Who?"

"You know, the blue dude."

"Kurt?"

"Yeah, him. He said I smelled like a litterbox or something, and I wasn't gonna just take that, you know? So we kinda got in a fight . . ."

"I see."

"But it wasn't my fault! Anyway, they just make a lot of stuff up to make us look bad. We're none of us angels, but we're not **that **bad, are we?"

She thought she understood. "Nobody's black or white. We all come in shades of gray."

"Hey, that's good. You ought to get a job writing bumper stickers."

Pietro interrupted them at that moment. "Hey, you wanna get a move on there, chickie-baby? We can only stall Tall, Dark, and Hairy for so long."

"All right." Brenda gathered up her things and prepared to leave. She gave _The Colour of Magic _back to Todd. "I'll have to finish this another time."

"Okay."

She gave him a little kiss on the cheek. "See you in school."

Todd just stood there, in shock. As she went around the corner he murmured, "I'll never wash that cheek again."

Pietro gave him a funny look. "You never wash that cheek **anyway**. Hey, Brenda, wait up! We have to make sure the coast is clear."

Keys in hand, Lance stood at the front door. "Uh . . . Mr. Creed?"

The figure in the armchair moved with unbelievable swiftness between Lance and the door. "Where're you going?"

"To—to the store. You want anything?"

Behind the big man's back, Pietro zipped Brenda outside, put her in the car, and came back in before anyone noticed.

"Just get some milk," Creed said, and went back to his chair.

Lance nodded and went out to the car. He hoped no one would notice that he had a passenger. Then again, their neighbors tended to steer clear of the Brotherhood house. **Way **clear.

Brenda arrived back at the book shop at nine on the dot, helped Nick straighten up while he locked up the till, and was waiting outside when Scott came to pick her up.

"How was your evening?" he asked.

"Oh . . . fine," she said, looking out the window.

She breathed a sigh of relief that everything had gone off all right, and wondered if she could get away with it again.

It was the most dangerous thing she'd ever done in her life . . . and it felt good.

"Just fine."

*_The Colour of Magic _(British edition), p. 127****


	12. The Book Club

The Book Club 

At school the next day, Pietro cornered Brenda at her locker.

"You got any more of those books?" he asked.

"Books?" Then she remembered. "Oh. Yes, I have most of them."

"Can you lend me a couple? They're good."

Out of the corner of her eye, Brenda saw Kurt watching her with the pale-haired speedster. Hastily she said, "I have to go. I'll see you in Geometry."

"Yeah. Sure. Fine. Whatever." And he was gone again.

"Vhat vas zhat all about?" Kurt asked.

"Just homework," she said.

"Right."

Throughout the rest of the day, she was watched very closely by the other X-Men. Some of them weren't even properly sneaky about it. Evan, for instance. He went right up to her desk in History, before the bell rang, and said, "You really should stay away from those Brotherhood guys. They're real jerks. Especially Pietro."

"Pietro?"

"Yeah, I heard you were talking with him at your locker. What's up with that?"

Brenda almost laughed. He thought she had a thing for **Pietro**? That was about the silliest thing she had ever heard. "No! I mean, he asked me about a homework assignment. That's all. He is a jerk, now you mention it."

"You sure?"

Brenda nodded.

"Okay. Well—"

The bell rang, and Evan hurried to his seat before the teacher came in.

In English, she found a note on her desk: COME OVER TONIGHT.

She looked back. Todd waved at her from his seat three rows behind.

Carefully, she wrote CAN'T. TRAINING AFTER SCHOOL, folded the note over, wrote TODD T. on it, and passed it back.

Before it reached its destination, someone snatched it away. It would have been bad if it had been the teacher, but they would have gotten out of it with, at worst, a detention.

The person who had intercepted the note was a cheerleader, one of the legions of girls that followed Duncan Matthews around. Brenda wasn't sure of the name—Courtney or Brittany or something—but she knew the girl had it in for Todd.

"What's **this**?" Courtney/Brittany waved it in the air like a flag. "Toady's got a girlfriend!"

Todd slumped down in his seat, hiding his red face. "Shut up," he mumbled.

"Who is it, huh? Who's your little girly-whirly-friend, Toady?"

Everyone around them was laughing and making kissing noises. Brenda decided she had to do something . . .

But someone beat her to it.

"Leave him alone, Kristy," Rogue said, leaning across her desk to give the girl a death glare.

"Ooh!" Kristy turned on Rogue. "Is it you? Did you kiss him?"

"Mahnd yer own business."

"You wouldn't want us to tell Jean Grey," Brenda chimed in, "where Duncan was last weekend. When he was supposed to be looking at colleges?"

Kristy went pale, then red. "How did you know—"

Rogue smiled. "You shouldn't park in front of the 7-11 if you don't want to be seen."

The irate cheerleader turned away and stalked off, throwing the crumpled note to the floor. Todd scooped it up just seconds before the teacher came into the room.

It wasn't over. Brenda knew that without having to read the other girl's thoughts. She had just made her first enemy here. Well, there was a time to be Miss Nicey-Nice, and a time to stand up and fight. Jesus may have said turn the other cheek, but He never went to high school. Someone had to teach those brats a lesson, and it might as well be her.

Lunchtime rolled around, and Brenda was surprised to see Pietro and Lance waiting for her outside the cafeteria. "Hey, Bren, we've got a surprise for you," Pietro announced.

"What? Did you make me lunch?"

"Better. We set something up in the next room—oh, don't worry, nobody goes in there this time of day. We'll be safe . . ."

Brenda wasn't sure she should go with them. It wasn't as if she didn't **want **to, but all the warnings she'd received had made her wonder if there really was something to fear from these boys. What if this was some kind of trick?

"C'mon," Lance said, taking her by the arm. "No one's gonna see you. What are you afraid of?"

Good question. Was she more afraid of getting caught breaking the rules, or . . . or trusting someone she had been told couldn't be trusted? She looked at them; they seemed sincere enough.

"All right."

Todd was pacing back and forth across the empty classroom. "She's not gonna come," he moaned.

"She'll come," Fred said, in between bites of his enormous lunch.

"She won't! I know it!"

"But she likes you!"

This confused Todd. "Whaddya mean, she likes me? How can you tell?"

"I just can."

"Oh yeah? And you've had how many girlfriends?"

Fred just kept eating.

"I'll tell you how many—zero. So don't tell me—"

Todd heard the door open and dived under a desk. "Aaahh! I'm not here!"

"Todd, is that you?"

He poked his head up and saw a familiar face. "Brenda?"

"Why are you hiding under the desk?"

"I thought you might have been my science teacher. I kinda skipped class."

"I noticed."

"I refuse to dissect anything that looks like it might be related to me . . ."

"Uh oh," Brenda said. "That couldn't be good."

"If anyone comes looking for me, I ain't here, okay?"

Brenda saw the paperback sitting on the teacher's desk. It was a Pratchett—_Soul Music_, one of her favorites. But she didn't have time to start another one when they were still in the middle of—

Todd slapped _The Colour of Magic _down on the desk in front of her. "I marked where you left off," he said, "so we can read some more."

"Whose is that?" She nodded towards _Soul Music._

"I got it out of the library," Pietro admitted. "Never been in there before. They have a whole bunch of these."

"Do they?" Brenda's admiration for the school went up a notch.

"Yeah. This one's pretty good so far. The best one, though, is _The Fifth Elephant_."

"I'm reading that now! Don't tell me how it turns out!"

"OK. But did you get to the part where that one dwarf—"

"Don't tell me!" Brenda insisted.

"All right, all right! I got up through that one so far. What's _Jingo _about?"

"Uh," Todd interrupted, "we don't have all day here!"

Pietro rolled his eyes. "Sheesh. We try and do you a favor . . ."

Brenda sat down and began to read _Soul Music_. She would save _The Colour of Magic _for another night. _Soul Music_, with its abundance of pop culture references, would go over well, she thought.

Todd had more fun in a thirty-minute lunch period than he ever had in his life. It was the first lunch period he'd ever had where he didn't have to worry about being stuffed in a locker or covered in his own food. And that was a good thing. The story was just a bonus.

When the bell rang, it was like the spell ended.

"Wecandothistomorrow," Pietro said. "Thisroomisn't—"

"Slow down," Brenda admonished him.

"This room isn't used between twelve and one," he said, slowly enough to be understood. "If you can sneak out of—what's your fifth-period class tomorrow?"

"History," she said.

"That's no good! McMarsters has eyes like a hawk! What about tomorrow night?"

"But won't Ms. Darkholme be home?"

"Yeah, but she'll be out of commission for at least another couple of days. The big hairy guy'll be gone, so we can do what we want."

"I'm not sure I can manage it again."

"They keeping you under house arrest now?"

"Guys!" Todd urged them. "We gotta get to class!"

Creed, meanwhile, was pacing the hospital corridor, waiting for Raven to be released. He wasn't expecting sunshine and lollipops, but when he finally saw her, she had a "don't-mess-with-me" look on her face.

"Aren't you glad to be out of this place?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes.

It was something he wasn't used to, her being so quiet. She wasn't the most talkative of people, but she was never like this, not even when she was angry with him.

"You'll feel better," he said, "when you're at home in your own bed."

But if she did, she sure didn't show it. She couldn't speak, but she did everything else she could to make his life miserable. She was forced to communicate using a note pad and a bicycle horn, and Creed wasn't sure which was more annoying.

He went to get himself a bottled water from the fridge, and that damn horn went off again.

Mumbling curses under his breath, he shuffled to the bottom of the stairs, and bellowed, "WHAT?"

Raven held up a sign that said: MAKE ME SOME ICE CREAM. MY THROAT'S KILLING ME!

Creed sighed and went back to the kitchen. "I swear," he muttered to himself, "that woman is going to drive me to the nuthouse one of these days!"

Balancing the ice cream bowl in one hand and the water bottle in the other, he trudged up the stairs to her room, where she sat up in bed and coughed incessantly.

"Here's your—" he started to say, before noticing that Mystique was coughing her lungs out. "Ah. You're really in rough shape, I see."

She gave him a look that said _You THINK?_ It was one of the few times in his life that he was at a loss for words. He'd never seen her looking so miserable . . . even when she'd lost their baby. He gently placed the ice cream dish on the bedside table and went to her, looking into her eyes. One hand came up and smoothed out her hair.

She tried to speak, but couldn't say a word.

"It's okay, Rae," he said. "I'll stay here as long as you need me." He held her against him, feeling the warmth radiating from her body . . .

The door flew open. "Mystique!" Toad wailed. "Lance won't give me the remote con—" He saw them together, realized what was up, and stopped dead in his tracks. For a moment, he could do nothing but stare. Then, after he picked up his jaw off the floor, he said, "I'll just come back later."

"You do that," Creed growled. Mystique, of course, said nothing, but she glared at him meaningfully.

Toad sidled out of the room, and then ran downstairs. "Oh man, oh man! You won't believe what the Boss Lady and the babysitter are doing!"

"I'm watching this!" Lance shouted at him. Then the words sank in. "**What **are they doing?"

"It looked like they were . . . kissing."

Fred and Pietro looked up at that, sure that they'd heard him wrong. "No way," the speedster said.

"**Kissing?**" Fred grimaced. "Yeuch!"

"No, no, no! It's a good thing! Maybe this is the break we've been looking for! Maybe they'll be so wrapped up in each other that we can do whatever we want!"

"I don't think so," said a voice behind him.

Toad jumped back. He hadn't heard anyone behind him. That man could **move**.

"You're still grounded," Creed continued. "As for the rest of you, I'm watching you, so don't even **think** of trying anything!"

The boys looked at him, then at each other, then went back to their TV program.

Mr. Creed stayed on the rest of the week. He finally left Monday night, when Mystique was up and around again. She went back to school on Tuesday.

In the meantime, Todd had started leaving notes for Brenda in the crack between the gym water fountain and the adjacent wall. It was too risky for them to meet face-to-face at school anymore (except for classes, of course), because she was being watched.

Wednesday morning she found this:

MYSTIQUE'S DOING PARENT-TEACHER CONFERENCES ON WEDNESDAYS NOW. IF YOU CAN GET OUT, CAN YOU COME OVER? (P.S. BRING _SOUL MUSIC)_

She thought about it. She had started working at the bookstore on Monday and Wednesday nights, and Saturday afternoons. She was sure Nick would cover for her again.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she scribbled OK. PICK ME UP AT THE SHOP AT 6:30. Then she put the note back in the hiding place.

At six-thirty sharp, she saw Lance's car pull up in front of the shop. She looked over at Nick, who gave her the high sign. They had worked it all out: if anyone called or came in looking for her, Nick would explain that she'd gone round the corner to fetch him a cup of coffee. She would be back by nine, and Scott would pick her up out front at nine-thirty.

It was a perfect setup, and for almost six months, no one questioned it. In December, just before Brenda went home for Christmas, they had a little holiday party*, and were **almost **discovered, but the boys were able to keep Mystique distracted long enough for Lance to sneak Brenda out the door.

Brenda was very happy at the Institute. Her extra training sessions had paid off, and Logan was now teaching her the use of throwing stars (if she didn't slice her fingers off first). She sang in the choir at St. Catherine's, and had made friends with a girl in her French class named Trisha.

Then one night in March, just before Easter break, she got some news that would change everything.

*see "Waiting for the Hogfather


	13. Bad News From Home

13. Bad News From Home 

"Hold it like **this, Princess," Logan said, moving her thumb and forefinger away from the edge. "Hold it flat, and then flick—"**

"Sorry to imterrupt," Professor Xavier's voice boomed down from above, "but you have an urgent telephone call, Brenda."

"If it's Trish, tell her it's page 197, first six problems."

"No, it's long-distance."

_Is it Gran? Ever since that fainting spell, Brenda had been worried about her grandmother's health. The older woman was diabetic, she had learned. _

_No, it's a Sister Natalia. You can take it up here._

_Thank you._

She took the elevator upstairs and took the call in Xavier's office. "Sister?"

"Oh, Brenda, thank the Lord I found you!" Sister Natalia was one of the younger ones, barely out of her teens. "It's terrible, terrible!"

"What is it?" Brenda found herself gripping the arm of the chair so tightly her knuckles were white.

"It's Sister Maria. They—they think she's had a stroke."

"Oh, God." Brenda felt her heart sink. Sister Maria had been like a mother to her. "How bad is it?"

"She's conscious, but . . . she's not—not expected to survive."

"How long?"

"They said a few days, no more than a week."

"Oh, God."

Brenda rushed out of the room in a panic, with Xavier following her. "I have to go home right away, Professor. Sister Maria's very ill and I need to go and see her right away—there's not much time . . ."

"Say no more." Xavier went to his office and began making arrangements for Brenda's trip home. The earliest flight he could manage to get a ticket for was for eight the following evening.

It was a Wednesday, and she was supposed to work at the bookstore, so that was the first call she made.

"Oh, God, that's too bad," Nick said.

"Do you want me to come in and tidy up or anything before I go?"

"No, no, that's all right. You've got enough to worry about right now. Just be sure to pack your warm clothes, all right?"

"I will."

She should have called Todd next . . . but she didn't want to think about it. Xavier told her he'd arrange things with the school so that her work would be waiting for her when she got back, so that was one worry less. Then she talked to Trisha, who tried to understand, really she did, but she didn't sound as if she thought Brenda would be back.

When her phone calls were done, she went to her room and began packing.

Funny that she had so many clothes now. What would she need? She packed her two gray dresses, a few pairs of jeans, her New York sweatshirt . . . she wouldn't need her training uniform, and she could probably get by with only one or two books . . .

There was that little blue robe again. She'd asked around for months, but still hadn't found out where it had come from. It was a mystery she might never have solved . . .

. . . if she hadn't noticed the tiny monogram on the pocket. It was a "B" with roses on either side.

_Wait a minute. I know this! It's from . . . what was that school in town, that they closed down a few years ago? Butterfield Academy, that was it. Wait, what's this?_

There was something in the pocket—a tiny folded square of paper. It was wrapped around a gold ring, or at least, it looked like gold.

Brenda unfolded the note, but all it said was "8:30 Usual place Big Surprise!" What was **that supposed to mean?**

That night Brenda dreamed of her mother.

How did she know it was her, when she'd never seen her before, not even in pictures? She couldn't explain; she just knew.

The woman was calling out to her, and she had to go . . .

Kitty heard Brenda's door open and close, and came out to find out what was going on. "Brenda? Where are you going?"

No answer.

Kitty followed her all the way down into the kitchen. "Brenda? Are you, like, okay?"

Brenda still didn't answer. Her eyes were open, but she wasn't seeing anything but her mother. She started to open the door . . .

Kitty wouldn't give up. She tried mentally contacting the girl, but there was no reply. She was afraid to grab her because they said you shouldn't wake up a sleepwalker—

In desperation, Kitty mentally called Professor Xavier. _Professor, I need help! Brenda's under some kind of spell or something! I'm afraid she'll hurt herself if she doesn't wake up soon!_

_All right, Xavier "said". He reached out and touched Brenda's mind . . ._

. . . which finally snapped her out of her trance, with her hand on the doorknob.

Later, in Xavier's study, he explained everything.

"The robe," he said, "it was your mother's."

Brenda stared at him in shock. "She was here?"

"Unfortunately, no. I only met her once. I wanted to work with her, but . . . she wasn't the cooperative type."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I only just remembered tonight. She wasn't here, but at my house in Ruttletop. The robe must have gotten in with my things when I packed up and left."

"But it's so small! I thought it must be a child's!"

Xavier chuckled. "I don't suppose you've ever tried it on?"

The thought had never occured to her. "No. Why?"

"She wasn't much bigger than you, when I first met her. She **looked like a child—I thought she couldn't have been more than ten or eleven."**

"So why did Brenda start sleepwalking?" Kitty asked.

"I believe," Xavier said, "that was a kind of psychic impression. Sometimes a telepath will leave something of himself or herself behind. Call it a psychic echo. Usually it's tied to some possession . . ."

"But that robe's been there since last fall! Why now?"

"Because you've never touched it before now."

The clock in the hall struck three.

"I think you had better both go back to bed. Especially you, Brenda, you've got a long day ahead of you."

"Okay."

Brenda went back to her room and picked the robe up off the bed. She wrapped it around herself, then climbed back under the covers. Though she had no more dreams, she felt her mother's presence surrounding her.

Her bags were packed, she was ready to go. But on the way to the airport, there was one stop she had to make.

"I thought you talked to him already," Scott said, as he pulled up in front of the bookstore.

"I did. There's something he wants me to bring home for him," she said. This was the cover story Nick had given her on the phone, in case anyone else was listening. But she knew why she was really here.

She ran inside and up to the counter. "Excuse me," she said to the girl, "is Nick here?"

"Brenda, right? He's waiting for you in the back." She pointed helpfully toward the only door.

Brenda rushed through, almost knocking over a display. She righted it, and then proceeded through the back room door.

There was a little hallway, with three doors, two on the right and one on the left. To the left was the "office", complete with microwave and mini-fridge, where the employees took their breaks. The first door on the right was the bathroom.

The second one was the one she wanted. 

Nick was opening boxes, sorting through the new arrivals. With him, leafing through _The Color of Magic (which they'd never actually finished), was Todd. He looked up as she approached. "You made it!"_

"I don't have much time." They exchanged phone numbers—she wasn't sure if she'd be staying at the convent or her grandmother's, so she gave him both—and e-mail addresses, promising to write and call as often as possible.

"How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know. Hopefully no more than a week."

"What about school?"

"That's all taken care of."

Todd put the Pratchett book on top of a stack of boxes, and went to her. "I wish you didn't have to go."

"I wish I didn't, too."

From outside a horn honked.

"I have to go," she said hurriedly. She gave Todd a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, then did the same to Nick, who suddenly held something out to her.

"What's this?"

"It's the package I want you to give to my mum."

"You mean that was for real?"

"I didn't want you to get in trouble."

Well, **that was a relief. She hated having to lie to the people she lived with. "What is it?"**

"It's a hardcover she asked me to order for her. I was planning to mail it to her, but since you're going that way anyway . . ."

"Sure. I don't mind."

"The address is right on it."

"I think I can find it."

Package in hand, she ran back outside and got in the car. "All set," she said, and they pulled away. She resisted the impulse to look back, knowing Todd would already be gone.


End file.
